The Man Also Known as Gabriel
by HaleKent
Summary: Setting: Peter and Emma's wedding two years after Brave New World. No one harbors ill feelings toward Gabriel, only one petite blonde ex-cheerleader, but everything seems to change as Samuel decides to stir up trouble. (IN PROGRESS)
1. The Man Also Know As Gabriel

Claire couldn't understand. Her hatred for him was unwavering since the first time she heard of his atrocious acts. He only added fuel to the fire the second time he came after her. Then he haunted her. He killed her biological father, stalked her, kissed her, kidnapped Gretchen—sort of. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?! Why did he have to be there, smirking face and all, at Peter's side as Emma walked down the aisle?

She tried hiding her dislike and her grimace every time she looked at him, at least for the day, knowing she was bound to be in quite a few of the pictures. One annoying thought that plastered itself in her head was how he did look pretty good in a suit. She only wished it was his funeral rather than Peter's wedding.

She was ecstatic when Peter announced he had finally asked Emma to marry him. She had been overjoyed when Emma asked her to be the Maid Of Honor; however, when she learned _he_ would be the best man, she almost vomited. She tried understanding that he and Peter had resolved things the twelve hours they were under Matt Parkman's torture. She hadn't forgiven him. In fact, it was part of her daily routine to think of a different way to kill him. After all, they had forever.

Literally. Both of them, due to Claire's natural ability to heal, and his thievery of it, they were both immortal. 'Don't you love how the universe works?' her brain mocked. She almost told herself to shut up before realizing she was starting to sound crazy… talking to herself. Wow.

Even as she watched the ceremony unfold in front of her, she couldn't help but feel the stare that sent chills down her spine amongst the several eyes staring in her direction. She kept her gaze on the happy couple, smiling as to hide her true face. She may have actually cried if she wasn't so…cautious. She refused to call herself paranoid.

It was almost two years since Samuel Sullivan had been arrested. She still remembered the night clearly, as if it had happened yesterday. She remembered climbing the steel frame of the Ferris Wheel, not at all scared for her well-being. She was slightly curious as to why no one had rushed to stop her. She didn't even sneak a glance toward the onlookers as she plummeted, feeling the air whoosh around her, before landing on the ground with a deep thud. She stood up, popped her joints back into place, and brushed herself off. She looked straight into the camera, and simply said, "My name is Claire Bennett, and that was attempt number… Well, I guess I've kinda lost count." It was the annoying yammering that brought her from her daze.

"Miss! You look like you want to say something?" an anchor asked. She looked to her dad, to her friends, and then she shook her head. She had imagined the whole scenario. Sometimes, she wished Hiro would take her back and her jump, just to see the outcome. But she knew he would never agree, so she never asked.

Since then, the rest of the world continued as if she didn't just make a life altering choice. No one else even noticed. Upon returning to school, she realized that she wasn't that in to Gretchen, that she was a good friend and that all she really wanted right now. Apparently, the feeling was kind of mutual. Two weeks later, Gretchen was hanging off of a football player's arm, laughing away with Becky's old entourage. Guess she got over Claire easily enough.

She winced as the glare from a watch caught her in the eyes. Knowing exactly who caused it, she ignored it, stepping slightly to her left, so that he would have to blind the bride to get it to her. She knew he did it on purpose, and she knew he knew, judging by the maddening smirk the erupted on his face. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling he loved to annoy her. She'd rather he just ignore her, like she tried to do to him.

Oh, how she would love to wipe that grin off his face. She hated how the pale pink tie seemed to bring color to his clean shaven face, and how it made his brown eyes turn from their normally blacken state to almost a liquid chocolate. She especially hated that she couldn't go five minutes without glancing into them, and vice versa. She was starting to worry the guests would say something later. She snuck a peak into the crowd of thirty or so people, seeing faces she was familiar with, along with very few she didn't. She quietly sighed a breath of relief when she saw that none of them was looking at anyone but the bride and groom. Thank God. She desperately hoped Matt wasn't being invasive either. Stupid mind-reader.

She almost jumped as an applause burst through the quiet ceremony. She smiled hugely, and clapped along, following Peter and Emma as they walked down the aisle together. She hated that her placement fell exactly with _his_, so that she was forced to take his arm and smile like she wasn't walking next to the world's most dangerous man.

Technically, she wasn't. Technically, she was standing next to an innocent watchmaker, whose mother had attacked him, and so he had defended himself. Technically, he wasn't Sylar, a maniacal murderer who killed people because they had something he wanted. Technically, Sylar was lost in the chaos of the world. Technically. Just like Noah had technically run a paper company for fifteen years, and Angela had technically never organized the Company. Stupid technicalities.

"Are you alright?" he asked her as they approached the area set up for the pictures.

"Fine," she said as polite as she could muster. Even to her the word spewed from her mouth like venom.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked quietly.

"I've never been any other way with you," she said, mostly telling the truth. "I'm just trying to get through the evening for Peter and Emma. I told them I wouldn't be mean to you, so please don't make me break that promise." She released his arm and quickly made her way to Emma's side.

"What was that about?" Peter asked as they watched the woman primp and pose for the photographer.

"She hates me," he replied somberly.

"She doesn't hate… Okay, so she may hate you. She just doesn't understand. I've tried explaining what happened back then to her, but she thinks you've conned me into saying it. She thinks I'm just trying to convince her you're a good guy. Maybe you should talk to her. Ask her to dance later," he encouraged with a pat on the back. And then he was off to Emma's side.

He couldn't focus. Claire hated him. He had tried apologizing and explaining that he was a changed man, but she wouldn't listen. He even tried atoning for what he had done… Why couldn't people just understand that the five years he and Peter were in his head changed him tremendously? He helped save the world, and it wasn't because he had an ulterior motive. He did it because he really wanted to save New York from Samuel. Why couldn't Claire get that? Peter and Emma did. Hiro, Ando, Mohinder, and Matt eventually did. Hell, even Noah and Angela did. Why couldn't Claire see that he had changed?!

He rushed through the pictures, quickly feeling like the tie was choking him. He couldn't help but remember when he saw the cameras surrounding Claire. He saw a familiar glint in her eyes when one of the cameramen asked if she had something to say. He could practically see her climb the Ferris Wheel and hear Peter ask what she thought she was doing, and that she was going to change everything. He could hear her bones and joints snap and pop into place as she stood and walked to the cameras. He blinked and there she was, hadn't moved. She simply shook her head. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the look of horror slowly fell from his face. And everyone else's, too.

He tugged his tie loose as he sat at a nearby table. Hiro was going to teleport everyone from their current spot in Central Park to the Petrelli Mansion. It was far, but no one wanted to worry with the hassle of fighting New York rush hour. He laughed, remembering the fuss Hiro had made, saying it was personal gain. Peter eventually convinced him that it wasn't going to be a bad thing, and everyone would be thrilled not to have to take to the streets.

He watched as Claire faked her way through the rest of the pictures, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was ever sincere about anything. 'She hates you. That's sincere,' he thought. 'Or is it?'

Peter called the crowd to them, politely asking Hiro if he would, to transport them to the Manor. Hiro bowed as they connected hands and were whisked away. Almost instantly, they were in the Manor's ballroom. Tables were set up tastefully around the dance floor. Maybe he would listen to Peter and ask Claire to dance. The worse she could do is say no… along with stabbing him in the eye with a spoon.

He sat at a table and raked a hand through his slicked back hair, thankful Peter persuaded him to cut it. It was still shaggy, hanging in his face a little, but not enough to reach the hollows of his cheeks.

"Hey, man," Matt said as he walked over to him. "You doing okay?"

"Hey, Parkman," he said, shaking his friend's hand. "Yeah, I'm doing okay. I'm fine." He felt something pushing into his head, and he just rolled his eyes. "Stop. Nothing's wrong, so stop trying to get into my head."

"Okay, okay," Matt said, putting his hands up defensively. "Why are you so worried about what Claire thinks?"

"I don't. Besides, what's in my head is none of your business."

"Ha! You admitted it," Matt said, taking a seat next to him. "I didn't get in your head. I just saw you two staring at each other during the wedding, and I guessed the rest. So why do you care?"

"Because she's the only one who still can't stand to be around me!" he exclaimed quietly.

"Oh," Matt said, sinking back into his seat. "Sorry, man. I could always trap you two in your head, and let you work it out there."

"Don't even joke about that," he hissed.

"Okay, okay. Well I'm going to go dance with my wife before Pete and Em take the floor," Matt said as he stood.

He couldn't help but glare from his seat. Couples were dancing across the floor, having fun, and waiting for the bride and groom to make their appearance. His mind wandered what it would be like to twirl Claire around the floor. As the song ended, Noah announced the newlyweds. "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Peter Petrelli!" The two burst through the doors, and slowly succumbed to the music. After their song ended, Noah came over the speakers again, just in time for him to notice the goofy grins Peter and Emma were both sporting and in his directions. "Ahem… The newlyweds requested for the bridal party to take a turn on the dance floor." Noah set the microphone down, and walked to Angela, leading her onto the floor, followed by Emma's parents. He sighed to himself and realized why the couple was smiling at him. He stood from his seat, and walked over to Claire, who was practically trying to shrink behind Noah. He couldn't help but notice her blush, an act made more prominent by the dress that matched his tie. He could hear her heart pound, but he didn't know what caused it to race. Anger? Frustration? Anticipation? He didn't know. So, putting on his best smile, he walked toward the young woman.

"May I have this dance?" he asked in the most gentlemanly way.

Claire was speechless. There she was staring wide-eyed at her nemesis, and he had just asked her to dance. She was almost positive he could hear the missing beat her heart made at his request. Her hands felt sweaty, and she was surprised that she felt nervous. Nervous like the way Gretchen had admitted her crush on her, and had kissed her, nervous. And he was just asking for a dance! _Get ahold of yourself, Bennett!_' her mind screamed. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it of the thoughts that were overcoming her. Why had she thought of him kissing her instead of Gretchen in that moment? She actually thought she saw a hint of hurt shoot through his eyes. So she smiled, and in a hoarse whisper, she replied, "Sure." She cleared her throat and took his hand, receiving a large smile in response.

He literally twirled her onto the floor before placing a hand on her waist. Being the gentleman he was, he kept her at an arm's length, which surprised her a little. She was in shock as he moved her around effortlessly, and in no way invaded her space. After a minute of silence, she finally broke the silence. "You're a great dancer," she complimented, though not looking at him.

"Thank you," he breathed. His eyes were on her face, judging every little speck of emotion. She could feel his eyes on her, and reluctantly met his gaze.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" she asked, quickly shooting daggers from her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was," he admitted truthfully. After not hearing a response from her, he decided to ask his own question. "Why do you hate me?"

"Do you really have to ask?" she asked dumbfounded. She couldn't believe how nonchalantly he asked that. "You stalked me, my family, and my friends! You sliced my head open, and you killed Nathan!" she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. Anger was reignited within her.

"I've changed!" he replied in the same hushed tone. "It's been years since I've done anything like that! Why can't you see that I'm a different man?"

"Because you're not! You're still Sylar! Changing your name doesn't change that you're a monster!" She didn't know if the song was over or not. She didn't care. She released herself from his grip, running from the dance floor and the man also known as Gabriel.


	2. Family Affair

Gabriel immediately stalked away, ignoring the curious looks the guests cast toward him and Claire. Thankfully the song was over, so the out lash didn't cause a lot of damage. At least not to anyone that wasn't him. He tried wrapping his head around what she said. She still considered him to be the serial killer, Sylar. But he wasn't Sylar anymore. He was Gabriel Gray.

"What was that that about?" a deep voice asked. He looked up from his hands—where his face had been—and looked to whom was talking to him. It was Noah, of course.

"Claire hates me," he said simply. "She got upset."

"Well, I can see that! What did you say to upset her?"

"I asked why she hated me."

Noah just looked at the man in front of him. "Gabriel… Claire may be able to heal physically, but her mind is forever scarred. Sylar did a lot of things to her; you can't deny that. It's going to take time for her to be able to overcome that. She's scared of you… Well, not really _you._ She's scared of him, coming back. For a while, we all were, except Peter. None of us were there. You were there for eight years. But to us, it was over night. Do you understand?"  
"I understand many things, Noah. I can understand that she can't forgive me yet. I just don't want her to hate me anymore. I… It hurts me to know that she can't even stand to look at me."

"I think she's hiding more that you think," Noah said vaguely and with a cheesy grin on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow as if to intensify the question.

"Talk to her, and maybe you'll see," Noah replied before walking away and resuming his post as announcer and makeshift DJ.

"Yes, because talking with her is so easy," he grumbled. He looked across the room and saw Peter dancing with Angela. _**Aw, how sweet. A mother-son dance. Too bad you'll never have that,' a voice in his head said menacingly. "Shut up," he said under his breath, knowing if anyone had heard, he would just look like a psycho talking to himself. 'But that's what you are. You are a psychopath. You killed people because you could. You stalked Claire, and you hurt her in so many ways. Why? Because you could. Aren't you a pleasant person?**_ He couldn't take the thoughts that plagued him. He looked over to Emma who was staring at him.

_Are you okay?_ she signed. He shook his head in reply. _Go talk to Claire. Sort everything out._

_ On my way, _he replied with a small smile that way anything but true. He glanced around the room, ignoring how people were watching him instead of Emma and her father. Although he didn't see Claire, it didn't take much to find her. After all, he did it easily for years. He closed his eyes and listened. He heard every heartbeat, every breath, every step. He didn't have to focus long before noting where Claire was on the premises. He launched himself from his seat, through the doors, and up the marble staircase. No one was on this level, so it was easier for him to find her.

He thought about knocking on the door, but soon realized that she would probably just tell him to go away. Instead, he barged in. She didn't even jump as the door bumped against the wall. He told himself he was going to stay calm, even though nothing calm was in him. He was upset, and angry, and entirely fed up. Only minutes ago he had wanted to just give up, but something wanted him to talk to her, to have her _listen_… and then there was the thought of them kissing. He felt a heat in his face, and he tried to hide it as he walked to her. She wasn't sitting on the bed, face in her hands, crying, and for that, he was thankful. He had no idea how to handle tears. Especially hers. She was laying on the bed, hands behind her, staring at the ornate painting on the ceiling.

"Go away," she said quietly, her voice filled with anger.

"No. Not until we fix this. After all, we have forever," he said with a smirk, sitting beside her.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why can't you just leave me alone?" How many times had she said that to him? He lost count. Maybe one day he would actually do as he asked.

"Because I want to fix this. Fix us."

"There is no 'us!'" she exclaimed, rising from the bed and getting a little too close to him. He doubted she even realized how close she had gotten.

"That's not what I meant," he cajoled, slightly moving away from the angered blonde. "Unless you want there to be." He was only teasing her now. He wasn't trying to be serious. The look on her face was priceless though. In less than a second her eyes went from angry, to scared, to curious.

"Why would I want that?" she asked, no malice in her tone.

"I never said you did. Claire, I don't want much from you. I just don't want you to hate me," he responded seriously.

"You say that like its easy," she snorted, leaning against the headboard with her arms crossed.

_It is!_ his mind screamed. _You could just forget that I killed people, and that I haunted you. You could just forget everything!_ He wanted to slap himself for that. He didn't want her to forget. He wanted her to forgive him so they could move on. Besides, the Haitian would never agree to that.

"What are you concentrating so badly on?" she asked, noting how his brow furrowed when he was thinking hard about something.

"I know it's not easy," he replied, ignoring her question. "We just have to work through it. And we're not leaving this room until we do."

"You wouldn't…?" Her eyes widened in terror. He wouldn't lock them in, would he? 'Of course he would! It's what he does!'

"I'm not going to lock us in." He was a little sad that she would even think that. He watched as her face went back to its blank state. "I just hoped you would give me the chance to talk to you so we could work everything out."

"Okay…" she said feebly.

"I don't want you to hate me anymore."  
"Well you know what they say. 'You can want in one hand…'"

"Claire, please. Stop. I don't want you to hate me anymore. I really wouldn't mind if you actually liked me, because, quite honestly, I like you."

_Say what?_ her brain asked her. _What kind of like? As in, we could be friends? Or, I'm kinda in love with you?_ "What do you mean?"

"Just as I said. I like you. You're funny, smart, beautiful, and you're extremely special. You're a great woman, and I would be stupid not to see that," he said blatantly.

_WHAT?_ her head screamed. She knew he was out of his mind, but this was taking things too far. "You're serious?" she asked, sitting up again.

"I've done many things to you, Claire, but lying is not one of them. I understand that you don't want to be with me, or that you even think of me in that way…"

"You're like, 30!" she interrupted.

"I am not. I'm 24. Anyway, I understand that you don't think of me like that, and apparently you think I'm old, but that doesn't matter. I'm not looking for anything but your forgiveness. Anything else is just a bonus."

All she could do was stare at him. Here was the man who had does so many things to her, and he had just admitted he liked her. And it seemed like it could be the "I'm in love with you" kind of thing. She so could not deal with this right now. She had nothing to say. All that came from her mouth was, "Uhh…"

"Well," he said, standing from his spot next to her. "There is a wedding going on downstairs, and I don't want to miss any more of it. When you want to talk, you know where to find me." He walked toward the door and stopped, turning on his heel. She was still staring at him with bright green eyes. He walked back to her, and bent over, so that he was face to face with her. He brought a hand to her cheek, and couldn't help but smile when she didn't flinch away. He placed a small kiss on her lips before breathing, "That should have been our first kiss," against her ear. And to that, he hurried from the room before he could do anything to ruin the moment. He almost pelted down the stairs until he ran into Noah.

"Gabriel. How's Claire?"  
"Fine," he said, returning to the ballroom.

Claire was in shock. There wasn't another word for it. Simply in shock. Sylar had kissed her, again. Last time she thought she would vomit on him after forcing her to do such a thing. Last time, she had scrubbed her lips until they bled, hoping to wipe every trace of him off her lips. Sylar had kissed her. 'No…' she thought. 'That wasn't Sylar. Gabriel kissed you. Gabriel thought you are smart, and beautiful, and an amazing woman.' The word 'woman' echoed in her head. She wasn't the same girl she was six years ago. And maybe he wasn't the same either…

"Claire-bear?" Noah said, bringing her out of her trance. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sy… Gabriel and I just had a talk… I'm—I'm gonna go back down… It's probably time for the speeches," she said as she stood, straightening her dress out.

"Yeah. That's what I was coming to get you for," he said, walking with her out the door. "So what did you and _Gabriel_ talk about?" he asked, emphasizing the man's name. He did well at hiding his shock to hear her use it. Whenever she spoke of him, she always called him Sylar.

"Just some things. He doesn't want me to hate him anymore… He just told me to find him once I wanted to talk," she replied, confessing the partial truth. Something she never did was lie. But it wasn't really lying if she didn't tell him everything, right? She wasn't quite ready to tell her dad that the ex-serial killer was starting to like her. She didn't want to admit it to herself. A small shiver ran down her spine as she thought of his parting words and actions. Her mind was still reeling, but she did her best to keep herself focused. She tried not to think that her head wasn't exactly swimming with those thoughts. She felt more like she was drowning. _How dare he!? What gives him permission to kiss me? Again? Oh the nerve!_ She wanted to vent to her father. But he didn't know Gabriel had kissed her. He couldn't know.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked her.  
"Fine. Just kind of nervous for the toast. It's been a while since I've been in front of a crowd."

"Oh, honey," he said, giving her a one-armed side hug, "you'll do fine."

They walked into the ballroom, taking their seats next to Angela. Claire mentally cursed Emma for putting her seat directly in front of Gabriel's on the round table.

The food was served. It didn't surprise her that Angela went all out, buying filet mignon for all the guests. That was her stipulation for helping with the wedding. She wanted to host the reception. Typical.

It wasn't far into the meal that Claire felt his eyes boring into her as she ate, ignoring him completely. She chatted with everyone else at the table, but she never said a word to him.

After everyone finished their plates, Claire looked to Peter and Emma, who nodded, signaling it was time for her toast. She tapped her glass with her spoon, and stood, unintentionally making the chair squeak against the floor. _Well, that got everyone's attention,_ she thought, suddenly focused on every set of eyes that were now on her.

"Hi everyone," she squeaked out. "It's been a while since I've been in front of a crowd, especially not without pom-poms and chanting out letters." A chuckled chorus spread through the room. She smiled and resumed her speech. "Peter and Emma are great. I mean, everyone here knows that. By the time Peter finally asked her to marry him, we were all wondering what took so long!"

"HEY!" Peter said with a laugh.

"Well, we were!" Claire replied defensively. "I love that I'm a part of this family," she said, suddenly serious. "They are truly wonderful. Emma is like the sister I never had, and Peter is a great uncle. You guys are amazing. So," she raised her glass, "to Peter and Emma. May you have a fantastic life together."

"To Peter and Emma!" the room cheered.

…

…

"Can I speak with you, dear?" Angela asked, pulling Claire away from Hiro, her current dance partners. Claire's smile faded as she followed Angela onto the patio adjacent to the ballroom. "I need you to do something for me."

"Okay…" Claire said apprehensively. "What?"

"I need you to go out with Gabriel," Angela said simply.

"Seriously?" Claire asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. He's lonely, Claire." She hated the way she said her name like that. "Just spend some time with him. He's a great young man."

"And if I don't?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said it was a favor. What if I don't want to go out with him?"

"Well nothing, dear," she laughed. "It's a request, not an order."

"Oh." She would've liked it better if it had been. "Okay. I may, I may not. We'll see."

"Thank you, darling," Angela said, kissing Claire's cheek. "Have a good night." She rolled her eyes as her grandmother walked away.

"Hey, Claire," Peter said, side stepping his mother and walking out onto the patio. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," frustration thick in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Your mother 'requested' I go out with—Gabriel!" she hissed.

"Oh. Dammi, mom." Claire raised her eyebrow, silently asking him what he was talking about. "I told her I would talk to you."

"Please tell me you're joking!" she cried.

"I'm serious, Claire. He likes you. And he's desperate for you to forgive him."

"Did everyone else know he liked me except me? Am I blind or something?" Peter bit his lip with no reply. "Oh my god! This is ridiculous!" she shouted, full cheerleader mode coming out. She began to pace as she thought about what she just discovered. "Look, Peter. I love you, and I love Grandma, but right now, you're both driving me crazy!"

"Sorry. I'm not asking you to do anything unreasonable. Just go out with him a few times. Talk to him. Get to know him. The new him. Please?"  
"We'll see," she replied, answering the same way she answered Angela.

"Thank you," he said, kissing her forehead before walking back to the reception.

She should've known this was going to be a family affair. It always was.


	3. He's Back

Everyone waved as Peter and Emma flew off. A smile was spread across everyone's faces as they chatted with each other as they walked to their vehicles. It was almost ten o'clock, and Claire was exhausted.

"You coming Claire-bear?" Noah asked, gesturing to his car.

"Umm... Actually, I was going to stay with Grandma tonight, if that's okay?"

"Sure, sweetie. As long as it's okay with Angela?"

"Of course it is, Noah! She's my granddaughter. She's always welcome. Besides, it gets lonely in this big house, especially since Peter's moved out," she sighed.

"I would love to spend some time with you, Angela," Gabriel grinned, butting in to the conversation.

"Oh, Gabriel! You're always welcome! Henry!" Angela called to her butler, "Would you make up a few rooms please?"  
"Few?" Claire squeaked.

"Yes. Gabriel will be staying, too! There's a few things I need to discuss with him about, and it's already late. There's no point in him leaving so late only to be back here in the morning. No need to make him drive back to his apartment when there's plenty of room here."

"Oh, Angela, I appreciate it but really, I can't impose."  
"Nonsense! You're not imposing! I'm inviting you to stay."

Both Noah and Gabriel turned their gazes to Claire, who was wide-eyed, staring at Angela with a fix of shock and anger spread across her face.

"Maybe I should stay?" Noah asked. Claire met his stare and nodded.

"There's no need for that, Noah. Claire will be fine!"

"I never said—"

"Now, run home. You'll want to miss the traffic. Be safe!" she said, turning in to the house, pushing her guests in as well. She shut the door and locked the door before Noah could say another word. "Claire, why don't you go on upstairs and take a shower? You look so tired, dear."

"Okay," she said quietly, a feeling of horror washing over her. She turned to the marble stairs and marched toward the room she always stayed in whenever she stayed there. She locked the door before she stripped, hanging her dress in the closet. One thing she loved about the rooms here was that every two was in a suite with a bathroom. She walked into the bathroom and began to pull the bobby pins from her hair. She was thankful that Emma didn't insist on making her hair appear extravagant. Bobby pins tended to get lost in her thick locks. She turned on the hot water, allowing the steam to fill the bathroom, sending chills across her bare skin.

She stepped in to the steaming shower and shivered, realizing how cold she had been. She thought about how wonderful the hot water felt pouring over her. She thought about how great the bed would feel once she finally got still. She then thought about Gabriel kissing her earlier and how soft his lips had been. How softly his hands had held her in place as they glided across the floor. How he was staying in the same house with her. It scared her. She knew he had feelings for her. Apparently everyone else did, too. Had she been so blind she couldn't see it? Or was he the only one she could read?

_Maybe you didn't want to know?_ she thought. _Maybe. Maybe I was too busy ignoring him to notice anything._ She quickly finished her shower, and stepped onto the tile floor. She wrapped a towel around her, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was severely disheveled so she reached for her brush. Upon taking a step from the wet floor to the dry, she lost her footing. She saw the counter. She saw the ceiling. And then, she saw nothing.

…

…

"What is so important that I couldn't just come back tomorrow?" Gabriel asked as he sat on Angela's couch.

"I wanted to talk with you about Claire."  
He stiffened at her name. "What about her?"

"You have feelings for her."  
"She tell you this?"

"No. I simply know. I've seen some things," she told him, referring to her dreams.

"What have you seen?" he asked, instantly intrigued.

"I can't tell you. But I can help you. You should ask her to go on a date with you."

"A date? Are you serious?" _I've never been on a date before._

"I rarely joke, Gabriel."

"She hates me!" he laughed.

"She may surprise you. The worse she can do is say 'no,' but I have a feeling she won't."

"And stab me in the eye," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Where do I suggest we go?"

"Heaven's sake, Gabriel! We live in New York! And you can fly! Take her anywhere in the world."

"Okay… I'll ask her in the morning."

"Why don't you ask her tonight? Let her think on it."

"But—" he was cut off by the sound of a thud coming from upstairs.

"But?"

"Shh.. I heard a thud from upstairs."

"Claire?"

He listened. The shower was off. Henry was no longer getting their rooms ready. "I don't hear any footsteps, but I hear her breathing. Her heart beat is faint…" His eyes widened as he realized what the sound was. "She must have hit her head," he said, jumping from his seat. He rushed up the stairs, and tried her door. "Locked," he groaned. He didn't know what to do. His mind was reeling, not knowing what he should do.

"The other door. It shares the bathroom," Angela said, still climbing the stairs. He burst through the other door, trying the bathroom door.

"It's locked, too!" he said, running his hands through his hair. Panic and adrenaline coursing through him.

"Dammit, Gabriel. You're telekinetic! Use your power!"

"My power?" he said dumbly. "I haven't used my power in years."

"It's like riding a bicycle. No matter how long it's been, you never forget how."

"But—"

"Just try it."

Gabriel calmed down. He closed his eyes and placed his hand over the lock. He focused, imaging the components inside. After a moment of intense concentration, the lock turned. The pair surged into the bathroom to see an unconscious Claire on the floor.

"Is she alright?" Angela asked, kneeling next to her grandchild.

"She'll be fine. She probably has a concussion, but other than that, she'll be okay once she wakes."

"Let's put her on her bed," Angela said, unlocking the door leading to Claire's room.

Gabriel picked the girl—young woman—up, careful not to bump her head any further. He was grateful that she at least had managed to put a towel around her before she fell.

_Stupid. That was stupid, Claire. You could have really—_

_**No. You're stupid. How can you care about this girl? How can she mean anything to you? You're a soulless monster. You can't love. How can you expect anyone to love you?**_

___Shut up! I'm not looking for her love. I just want her to stop hating me._

_**Stop lying to yourself! I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a liar! You know you want her to love you, or else she wouldn't be in your arms right now with you about to tuck her in to bed. She'll never love you. She'll never even like you. Stop kidding yourself, **_**Gabriel.**

_ Shut up, Sylar! You don't know anything. _Gabriel placed Claire on the bed softly.

"I'm going to put her into some clean clothes. Why don't you clean up the water she slipped on?" Angela suggested as she pulled some of Claire's clothes from the dresser.

He nodded and returned to the bathroom. After retrieving a dry towel, he kneeled to the floor and began to mop up the pool of water.

_**You're so pathetic. Here you are, on your hands and knees, in Angela Petrelli's home. You could so easily kill her, take her power. You could. So easily,**_ Sylar purred.

_No. I'm not that person anymore. I don't kill for powers. I don't kill for pleasure. I don't kill. You do. I'm not you._

_**You'll always be me.**_

___Shut up, Sylar._ Gabriel looked around the bathroom, making sure there wasn't any more water. He saw nothing but Claire's hair brush, lying across the floor. He picked it up and walked back into Claire's room.

"It's a good thing I was finished," Angela chuckled as she pulled a blanket around the young woman.

"Knew you were," he replied with a faux smile.

"Henry," Angela called. "Will you bring some aspirin and a glass of water to Claire's room, please?"

"Right away, ma'am," he answered. In less than a minute, he was by Angela's side, placing the bottle of pills and the glass on her nightstand.

"Madam Petrelli, what happened to Ms. Claire?"

"She slipped and hit her head on the floor. She'll be fine. You can go for the night. I'll see you in the morning," she said sweetly.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. Good night," he said, giving a slight bow before he left.

"Well," she sighed, turning to Gabriel who was gazing at Claire, "we can go to. She'll find someone when she wakes up."

Gabriel followed in step behind her as she began walking down the stairs. "Angela, I have a few questions," he said hesitantly.

"Ask away, dear."

"Is Henry…special?"

"Yes," she replied without pause. "He has super speed, though not as quick as that girl Matt knew. He can also hear over great distances. It comes in handy. Why do you ask?"

"Simply curious to how he arrived so quickly."

"What other questions did you have?" They returned to their seats in the sitting room.

"Why do you insist I 'go out' with Claire?"

"I just believe she needs to give you a chance. You're a very nice young man. You're too lonely for your own good, and you deserve someone as special as you are. You're very sweet, Gabriel. You understand a lot, and you seem to be quite older then you are. You two should at least be civil to each other, even if a relationship does not develop. You can only try."

After a moment of silence, Angela asked, "Was there anything else?"

"Yes. What is it so important? What did you see?"

"I can't tell you that."

"What can you tell me then?"

"Only that things with Claire will never be worse than it has been. I wish I could tell you things, but I've already done more than I should."

"Oh," was all he said. He tried processing everything, but knew that he wouldn't be able to with Angela sitting across from him. "So, which room is mine?"

"You were just in it," she replied with a laugh. "It's the one across from Claire's."

_Of course. _"Thank you. Good night."

…

…

Claire's head hurt. A lot. Her eyes opened slowly, allowing her to adjust to the light in the room. There wasn't much but it seemed to sear her eyes. She expected to be lying on the bathroom floor, only to find herself in her bed at the… mansion. And fully dressed. "Huh..." She looked to her nightstand and thanked Henry as she grabbed the glass and bottle of pills. She dumped a few into her hand and chugged the water, wishing that her super healing kept her from getting headache.

_Thunk-thunk-thunk._

The sound at the door made her jump. "Come in," she said hoarsely.

The door slowly opened to reveal a very shy and tired looking Gabriel. "Hi…" he said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." _This is so awkward… _"Umm, what time is it?"

"A little after two. Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the edge of her bed.

"Go ahead," she said, moving her feet allowing him to sit.

"Well… um… This is a little awkward, huh?" he asked with a small laugh.

"A little," she replied, returning the smile. Gabriel was sitting on her bed, and her head was swimming with questions.

"How are you?" he asked.

"What happened?"

"You fell. You slipped in the bathroom and hit your head on the floor. I heard you fall and Angela and I came up here. I carried in here, but she changed your clothes."

"You weren't in here when Angela changed my clothes were you?" Claire asked cautiously. A bright shade of pink spread across her face. She pretend not to notice his smirk.

"No," he chuckled. "I was in the bathroom cleaning the water up."

Claire stared at her hands as she bit her bottom lip. _Why did grandma want him to stay?_ "So, Gabriel, what did Angela want to talk to you about?" She tried not to laugh as she glanced up, only to see him as if he were a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh, uhh… She—she wanted me to talk to you about something," he squeaked.

She was positive her expression mirrored his own. _Oh god. He's actually about to ask me, right now. What should I say? I have every right to say no, and he knows that. Dama, he looks so nervous. I wonder if he's ever been on a date before._"What was that?" She couldn't help but stare at the man in front of her. Two years ago, she would have been scared out of her mind if he was within a ten foot radius, let alone sitting on her bed. But here he was, staring at his hands, and… _is he blushing?_

"Would… you like-to-go-on-a-date-with-me?" he mumbled hastily.

She wasn't exactly sure she heard him correctly. He did ask her out, right? "I'm sorry Gabriel. I didn't hear her."

He inhaled and exhaled deeply. 'Claire," he began, staring completely into her eyes. "Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

"Umm… sure," she said with a smile. _I just agreed. But how could anyone say 'no' to him though? He's being so sweet, and he was such a gentleman earlier. I hope this doesn't come back to bite me in the butt._

"Great!" he exclaimed, jumping from the bed, startling her. "Well, good night. I see you in the morning. Sleep well." And with that, he was out the door.

"Well, that was interesting," she mumbled to herself. She grabbed her phone from her night stand and sent a quick text to Peter. "Be happy. I'm going on a date with Gabriel."

A minute later, he replied, "That's great. We're happy for you. You won't regret it."

"I better not," she mumbled, setting her phone back down. She turned out her light and snuggled back under her sheets, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

…

…

He wondered if she could hear his heart ramming against his chest. He felt like his throat was tightening on its own accord, not only making it hard to talk, but also insanely hard to breath. The faint light made her golden hair glow like the sun was rising in the room behind her. The words from her question echoed in his head. _What did Angela want to talk with you about?_ Panic washed over him. _Should I tell her the truth? Or just play it off?_

"Ask her tonight," Angela had said. He couldn't help himself from wanting to touch the young woman sitting cross-legged in her bed, fidgeting with her hands and smiling lightly as she glanced at him.

"She—um—" _the truth!_ his mind screamed, "want me to ask you something." He almost laughed at his voice and the sudden change of her expression. _She looks like a deer in the headlights. Oh, she said something! She wants to know what Angela wanted to talk to me about._ His mind couldn't keep up with his mouth. As he verbalized the question he had been dying to ask, he couldn't understand why he was met with confusion.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel. I didn't hear you."

_God, she wants me to say it again. Doesn't she understand that it was hard enough to say it the first time? _"Claire," he breathed.

_**Why even say it? She won't do it. The only reason she even let you in here is because she was being polite. Just leave. She doesn't want you.**_

"Claire," he said more firmly, looking directly into her emerald green eyes. "Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

_**She's never going to say yes. You're not good enough for her. You're nothing to her. You're still Sylar, the killer of the innocents, the killer of Nathan. She'll hate you forever.**_

"Umm…Sure."

_She agreed. Thank God… I hope this doesn't come back to bite me in the butt._

Again, his mouth ran away with him. He said senseless drabble, and left her alone for the night. He walked back to his room as giddy as a grown man could be. Smiling from ear to ear, he readied himself for bed. He clicked on the tv, hoping _Lord of the Rings_ would be on. It always put him to sleep. He flipped through the channels before landing on the news.

"Breaking news from Channel Five. Samuel Sullivan, ex-ringleader for Sullivan Brothers Carnival, escaped from a Guantanamo Bay earlier this evening. Authorities say that Sullivan is very dangerous and should not be approached! If seen, please call the number below or 911."

"He's back."


	4. Help From My Friends

No one slept that night. Claire's nightmares tortured her with thoughts of her date with Gabriel. Where would he take her? Would he be the gentleman he had been all evening? Or would he return to being Sylar? Would someone end up dead?

Gabriel tossed and turned. Knowing Samuel was back weighed a lot on his mind. He knew the man was going to come for him and the others. He knew he would be fine, but not what upset him. He wanted everyone else to be okay, too. He wanted Claire to be okay, and he knew he would do whatever he could to make sure that would happen.

Angela was plagued with dreams of what was to come.

Claire woke to the sound of her phone vibrating across her nightstand. Her eyes shot open as she looked around the room, remembering everything from the previous hours, including her dreams. She sat up and looked at her phone. One message from "Dad."

"Morning, Claire-bear. Hope you slept well. Call when you're ready to come home. Love you," she read.

"Morning, dad. Just woke up. Slept fine. I hit my head last night, but I'm okay. I'll let you know. Love you, too."

She knew something was wrong before her feet hit the floor. A coldness was in the air, and it had nothing to do with the October weather outside the house. It was a little after nine, and Henry hadn't woken her up. That was unusual. Angela never let her sleep late.

She changed into a comfortable long sleeve shirt and some jeans, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. She opened her door quietly and began her path down the stairs. It didn't take a telepath to know something was wrong, or someone with super hearing to hear the hushed arguing on the floor below.

"He wouldn't do it, Gabriel! He's not stupid!"

"No, but he is vengeful."

"How do you know what he wants?"

"It's Samuel! He'll want to finish what he tried years ago. He's going to come after us, Angela. Surely you have seen it?"

No one said anything for a moment. Claire crept down the stairs, trying her best not to make a sound. She knew Gabriel could hear her, but she was sure he wouldn't dare keep anything from her. Angela would. Finally, the silence was broken.

"Fine. Say you're right. What do you suggest we do?"

"I am right. We have to warn everyone. Hiro, Noah, Peter, and anyone else that was at the carnival that day!"

"What about Claire?" she asked defensively.

"Claire, too. She's more than capable of taking care of herself. She fought against me and won many times. There's nothing Samuel can do anything her that she can't handle."

Claire walked into the sitting room, pretending not to have heard a single word, Though her senses were on high alert, she feigned her sluggishness. "Morning," she said with a fake yawn.

"Good morning, Claire. How's your head?"

"I'm fine. I slept pretty good."

"Good. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yes, please." After forcing herself through a minute of awkward silence, she asked, "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Angela smiled, hiding the worry underneath.

"I just thought I heard you two arguing about something."

"Nonsense. Come along to the dining room. Henry! Could you fix us some breakfast please?"

"Right away, ma'am," Henry replied, speeding off to the kitchen.

"I'll be in there in a minute, Grandma. I need to talk to Gabriel." Claire was staring bravely into his eyes, not seeing the glare Angela was casting at him warningly.

"Alright. Just come in when you're done. It won't take long for Henry to be finished."

The pair tore their gazes from the other to at her, giving her a nod in acknowledgement. Once she was out of the room, Gabriel spoke, "What is it, Claire?"

"So, Samuel's back," she said nonchalantly.

"Yes. He escaped last night."

"Angela didn't want to tell me. Why?"

"She's protective of you. Now that it's just her, she doesn't want to lose anyone else."

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"You're not going to do anything," he laughed.

"Of course I am! I'm not just going to sit by and watch as he hunts my friends and my family! Not when I can do something about it! You said yourself that that I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"Fine. I don't know what we'll do yet. He may have found a way to use his powers without being around specials. There's no telling, so we have to be cautious."

"Well, I can tell our friends he's back, to start. But the others, the ones at the carnival, could you tell them?"

"Yes. It shouldn't be too difficult to find them, but if it becomes so, I'm sure Micah would help me."

"Who do you think he will come after first?"

"I don't know." But he did.

…

…

As Angela prattled on how successful the wedding was, Claire discreetly pulled her phone from her pocket to type a quick message. "Samuel escaped. Be careful. Plans to follow soon." Send to… well, everyone. Everyone who didn't already know. _Even if they weren't at the carnival, we may need their help, _she thought. She tucked her phone away and picked at her pancakes with a smile.

"And you looked simply gorgeous!" Angela said proudly.

"Oh, I didn't look that good, Grandma," she laughed.

"Yes you did," Gabriel said quietly.

Claire blushed vividly as she lowered her gaze from his. "Thank you," she said humbly.

"Oh, Gabriel, you're such a gentleman! There aren't too many men like you anymore. Young, sweet, and handsome," she gushed. It was obvious she was being overly nice, but neither minded. Claire briefly thought she was trying to suck up to Gabriel, even if she couldn't think of a reason. "So," she said abruptly, "Where are you going on your date?" She stared at the two younger adults sitting adjacent from her, eyes narrowed, hands clasped in her lap.

Unintentionally, Gabriel's silverware clattered against his plate, and Claire almost spat her orange juice across the table. "Date?" she choked out.

"Yes. Gabriel informed me that you accepted his offer, and I am happy for you both! Now, where are you going?"

"Oh, Grandma… we… um…"

"We're going to Little Italy, and then to Broadway. There's a show playing that I would love to see, and Claire has graciously agreed to sit through it with me."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! I haven't been to Broadway in years. Claire, your grandfather used to take me, and we even took Peter and Nathan once. I think that was the last time I saw a show. It was _The Lion King._ Ah, it was marvelous! And Gabriel, you better make a reservation for Giovanni's. They have the absolute best pasta and breadsticks in New York. It is the closest thing to the real Italy. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be, and I don't want to be late. Feel free to stay as late as you wish. You're welcome to anything in the house." Angela rose to her feet, kissed the top of Claire's head, and was off, leaving the two in shock.

Awkward silence filled the room as Angela's footsteps dissipated through the house. The two ate quietly, neither quite knowing what to say. Claire felt the uneasy tension creeping through them, and she hated it. Her eyes were on her half eaten triple stacked pancakes. "Thank you," she said, loud enough for him to hear.

"For what?" he asked, confusedly.

"Making all that up. I froze. I had no idea what to say."

"It's not made up," he chuckled, looking up from his plate. "I bought the tickets this morning, and now I know the best place to eat."

"Oh."

"Well, I believe I'm finished. I'll be on my way."

"Yeah," Claire said dumbly. "I guess I'll call my dad to come pick me up."

"No need for that. I can take you home," he offered.

"Oh, no, really. It's fine. You don't need to go out of your way for me."

"I insist. It's not out of my way. You don't live that far from me."

After a moment with a small smile on her face, her face contorted into a confused look. "How do you know where I live? Have you been stalking me?!" she shrieked, pushing herself away from the table to stand.

Gabriel could not help but laugh at the petite blonde. "No. I have been over to Noah's a few times within the past year."

"Oh," she said. "I don't live with my dad anymore. I have my own apartment."

"Is that right?" he asked as he began to walk toward the door.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, walking next to him.

"So would you still like a ride, or would you rather call Noah?"

"Well, if you don't mind."

"My pleasure," he smiled. He really could not describe the feeling this girl gave him. He smiled just from hearing her voice. And when she smiled, his knees shook. Years ago this girl had been his obsession. Now, he was actually going on a date with her. He had heard the phrase "blow your mind," but it wasn't until now that he understood it completely. Her agreeing to go out with him blew his mind. He was sure that he was either dreaming or he had been sucked into an alternate dimension. He didn't care. For the first time in so long, he was actually happy.

They walked out of the manor, only for Claire to realize there was no car. "Sy— Gabriel… How did you get here?"

"Like this," he said, quickly grabbing her waist before shooting into the air.

"Gabriel! Put me down!" she squealed. "Let me go." She tried pushing away from him, hitting him, but to no avail.

"Are you sure? It's a long way down."

The words sank in as she managed a glance down. She squeaked as she saw the cars moving along the highway like ants marching to their home. "No," she said, tightening her grip on the jacket he was wearing.

"Where to?" he asked, praying she would wrap her little arms around him.

"2nd and Pine," she said breathlessly.

"Have you flown before?" he asked, suddenly worried about the girl at his side.

"A few times, but it's been years." She hadn't been scared those times, but this was different. The other times, she was with people she trusted, like West and Nathan. It was with people she could depend on. This was different. It was Gabriel/Sylar. It confused her so much. Yesterday she was trying to think of ways to kill him, but today… she was going on a date with him. In less than twenty-four hours, her entire mindset had flip-flopped. _What a strange day this is going to be, _she thought.

Gabriel landed easily on her rooftop, careful to not let anyone see them, even though he could literally go invisible if he wanted. He had stolen that power long ago, but rarely used it now.

_**You had used it to spy on her. Do you remember that? When she still lived in Costa Verde, you would stand outside her window like a sick little school boy, begging for attention. And she, being the cheerleader she was, ignored you completely. You would pray that she would look out her window, searching for the man she knew was hiding in the shadows. You were so stupid, Gabriel. You tried to be innocent, but innocence was taken away from you the first time you killed. That's how you made me. That's how you became me.**_

_I am not Sylar. I am Gabriel Gray, watchmaker. I fix things. I do not stalk people. I do not hunt people. I do not find people so I can take their abilities. That is not who I am anymore!_ His head screamed.

"Well, umm, thanks for the lift," she said, releasing her hold on his jacket, and breaking the argument in his head. "I'll see you tonight?" She started walking toward the entrance into the building, glancing at him for confirmation.

"I'll pick you up at six."

"Okay," she said with a smile. "Will we be flying?"

"Only if you want to," he said, returning the smile. It took everything he had in him to keep standing.

"Okay."

"See you soon."

Claire walked through the entrance and sat on the first step she came to. _Oh my god, _her mind repeated. "That was way too close. Too, too close. He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have held onto me like that, with his big, warm hand around my waist like that. Stop it, Claire! Stop thinking about how nice it would be for him to hold you, and to kiss you again… to have him… Ah!" she screamed to herself. "Stop! Stop, stop, stop! Get ahold of yourself. This is insane. You can't think about Gabriel like that. You're only going out with him because Angela and Peter asked you to. Right? Right. Good. Humph. Now what am I going to wear?" she asked as she started walking down the stairs, curious to what her closet looked like.

…

Gabriel watched as Claire walked away. He was about to literally take off but then he heard her talking, to herself it seemed. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he could not resist. Though she was whispering, he heard her perfectly, thanks to his superior hearing. He smiled as he heard her say she wanted him to hold and kiss her. He didn't even care about Pete and Angela asking her to say 'yes' to him. She's so stubborn that she wouldn't have done it unless she wanted to. He knew that much. As he flew away, his curiosity was torturing him as he wondered what else she would've wanted him to do.

…

…

He crept through the darkness without difficulty. He didn't need to be able to see to know where everything was placed around him. He wasn't sure where he was going. He knew the others would not be in New York. He knew the Carnival was only available to those who knew where to find it. He knew he wasn't going to be able to find it without some help, and he knew one person who would help him. He hummed as he remembered a song that seemed to fit a bit of what he was going through. _Hmm I get by with a little help from my friends…_

* * *

**_AN: _I need a beta if anyone would like to be one or knows of a good one. I'm not sure how that works, but let me know something.**


	5. Preparation

Claire knew it was stupid to worry about the date this early in the day. It was barely noon, but she felt like it still wasn't enough time. After pulling out everything in her closet—which was almost like its own department store after spending a summer with Angela—she realized she had nothing to wear. "This is so frustrating!" she huffed. She heard a knock at her door, and responded, leaving her room to the mountain of clothes. She looked through the peephole to see her adoptive dad, holding… flowers? "Dad?" she asked confused, opening the door.

"Hey, honey," he said, giving her a half hug. "These were outside your door."

"They beautiful!" she exclaimed, smelling the bouquet of mixed roses, lilies, and tulips. She scanned it for a card until she found the small square. _Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; however, no one could hold so much beauty as you._

"Who are they from?" Noah questioned curiously.

"Umm. I think they're from Gabriel," Claire replied quickly, turning away just as fast to put the flowers in some water. In reality, she was trying to hide her reddened cheeks.

"Gabriel? Gabriel Gray?" he asked, trying to hide his anger.

"Yeah. He asked me to go out with him," she confessed.

"Really? What did you say?"

"I said 'yes'. Peter and Grandma both asked me to, so it was the least I could do."

"Huh," Noah said. His anger had completely diminished into surprise. "Well, that explains this." He pulled a dress from behind his back, allowing the light to shine against the material.

"Oh wow!" she said, grabbing the dress from him. "It's gorgeous! Where did you get this?"

"Your grandmother had it delivered to my apartment. It's not exactly my size," he laughed.

"I bet," she laughed with him. "So are you okay with this? With me going on a date with him?"

"Claire, you're old enough you don't have to ask my permission. It is completely up to you if you want to date—Gabriel—then by all means, date him. I'm just surprised. Yesterday you seemed like you hated him."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that… I don't know. I've seen a different side to him, now that I'm taking the chance. He's not the same. He's not acting like he used to."

"Well, I'm glad you're getting to know him a little better. Just be careful, Claire-bear. Trust your instincts."

"I will, Dad. Thanks." She smiled hugely as she walked him to the door.

"By the way, how'd you get home?"

"Oh, Gabriel dropped me off." She thought it was best to leave off the bit about him _flying_ her home.

"Uh-huh. Well, have fun. But not too much fun," he joked. "Love you, Claire."

"Love you, too, Dad. Bye." She shut the door behind the older man and breathed a sigh of relief. She finally had something to wear! She looked at her watch and saw that it was almost one. Gabriel would be there in five hours. _I'm not going to have enough time!_ She thought, mentally freaking out. _I still have to shower, and do my hair, and my make-up, and find shoes!_ She hadn't ever overreacted about a date before, but she knew that tonight was going to be big—like bigger than performing at the State Championship game big, and to the ex-cheerleader, that was saying a lot. She would never say it out loud, but she was nervous as a sinner in church.

…

…

Gabriel lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling in his apartment. He was in pure bliss. Never in his life had he ever been this happy, and it was all because a girl had agreed to go on a date with him. But not just a girl… It was Claire Bennett. She had said yes to him, Gabriel. The smile on his face only widened as he remembered Claire talking to herself. He wouldn't be so bold tonight as to kiss her or even hold her next to him. He would be cautious. To him, Claire was like a wild animal. If spooked, she would run in the opposite direction, desperate to get away. But, if treated with caution and respect, it would be fruitful for them both.

He tried not to think of his lips on hers, or even touching her skin. Remembering his hand on her waist, and how it sent shocks through his body was so knew. Even though Elle could actually produce shocks, this was different. He knew he was in love with this young woman, but he wouldn't admit it. Not yet. It was too soon.

_**It's not like she would ever love you. She's only doing this out of respect for Peter and Angela. She's only going out with you because they asked her to. You heard her yourself. You're especially not any of those things Angela called you earlier. You're not handsome. You're not smart. You're not special. You're revolting. You're worthless. You're pathetic. You're nothing.**_

_Shut up. I am smart. I am not worthless. I am special. I'm a Special. I'm not pathetic. Just leave me alone. You can't bring me down right now._

He was about to start a shower as he heard a knock at his door. "Just a minute," he called. He jumped off his bed, and opened the door to reveal a very serious looking Noah. "Hello, Noah. Would you like to come in?" he offered.

"Thank you, Gabriel," he said, walking over the threshold. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Not at all. Please, have a seat."

"No thanks. I won't be long."

"Alright…"

"I've just come from seeing Claire," Noah stated as he turned to the other man.

"Really?"

"Yes. And it seems that you and she are going out tonight?" Noah raised his eyebrow over his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Yes, we are. Is that a problem?" Gabriel willed his voice not to break. He hadn't even thought of asking Noah if it were okay. _I shouldn't have been so stupid. I should have asked the man if it was okay to date his daughter._

_**I told you that you are stupid.**_

_ Shut up._

"No, no. It's not a problem. I'm just a little… surprised," he said hesitantly.

"As am I, I assure you," Gabriel said with a smile.

"Well, I hope you two have a wonderful evening," he began as he started to walk back to the door.

"Thank you. I'm sure we will."

"Oh, and Gabriel?" he said, looking over his shoulder. "If you do anything to hurt her, I will come after you. I don't care if you're reformed or not. If you hurt my Claire… well, let's just say that Sylar doesn't even come close to a pissed off father."

"Yes, sir," he responded automatically.

"Good. Have fun," he said cheerfully as he walked away.

Gabriel shut the door as his heart thudded against his chest. No one had ever really talked to him like that before. Sure, people had threatened him, but this was something else. This was a promise, and although he would never say aloud, it scared him to death.

_**You're scared of Noah Bennett, the company man? Oh, Gabriel. You're worse than pathetic. You're downright sad.**_

_ You were scared of him, too. So don't come at me like that_, he retorted. Gabriel walked into his bathroom and stripped down. He hadn't showered since before the wedding, and he didn't like it. He turned the water precisely just over lukewarm, and stepped in. The water rushed down his body, automatically rejuvenating his skin. He loved the water. He loved the feeling of it running over him. It calmed him almost as much as a perfectly running watch. At one time, he envied Tracy Strauss, but thankfully, he was a changed man before he saw her powers fully developed.

He scrubbed the gel from his hair. He hated that he didn't shower before sleeping with it in the previous night, but he honestly hadn't thought about it. With Claire having the concussion, and him finding out that Samuel had escaped, it really wasn't at the top of his list. He walked to the sink and lathered the shaving cream on his face. He slowly slid the bare blade against his skin, always careful not to hurt himself. Just because he could heal himself didn't mean he had to be careless. He loved the closeness of the shave the blade gave him. No other razor could compare.

_**And you think you don't sound like a serial killer…**_

_ How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?_

. _**You can say it as much as you want. It doesn't mean I'll listen.**_

Gabriel didn't say a word. He continued his shave thoroughly, carefully gliding the blade against his skin. As he finished, he looked into the mirror at himself. "I really should do something about those caterpillars I call eyebrows," he mumbled, raising and lowering his eyebrows, as if it would help make them less bushy. He sighed deeply and lowered his gaze from the mirror. He looked at his watch. "Time to get ready," he sighed.

…

…

Claire paced her small apartment, desperately needing someone to talk to. Finally, after many, many minutes, one person had stuck in her head. Her mom, Sandra. Hastily she dialed her number, eagerly waiting for her to pick up. "_Hello?" _she answered from the other side of the phone. Claire put the phone on loud so she could pace without worrying about dropping her near broken phone.

"Hey, mom, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"_Claire? Of course, honey! What is it?"_

"I'm having… boy trouble," she confessed, trying not to bite her nails as she walked.

"_Oh, Claire. You're not pregnant, are you?"_

"What? No. I've never even…" Claire asked, suddenly confused at her adoptive mother's question.

"_Well, a mother worries. So, what is it? Who?" _Sandra pushed.

"Well, I can't really tell you. Dad knows him, and he doesn't like him too much." _What an understatement._

"_Well, not everyone your dad dislikes is bad. He has his quirks like any man. But enough about your dad. Tell me about the guy!"_

"Well… He's…" _Where to begin? _"He has really pretty brown eyes. Dark hair…" she said dreamily.

"_He sounds handsome."_

"Yeah," Claire responded absently._  
"What's his name? How old is he?"_

"I can't tell you his name, but he's just a few years older than me."

"_And…?"_

"And what?"

"_And just tell me about him."_

"He's… different. But in a good way. He doesn't act like other guys that I've met. Even the ones at school."

"_What do you mean?"_

"He's… I don't know how to explain it…"  
"_Do you like him?"_

"I think so. I feel that I shouldn't though."

"_Well_, d_oes he know you have feelings for him?"_

"I don't think so."

"_Does he have feelings for you?"_

"Oh, yeah," she said with a laugh.

"_Then what's the problem?" _Sandra asked, curiously.

"Umm, well, when I was in high school, he was really… mean to me and my friends." _Like Peter, West, Hiro, Matt, Nathan,_ she thought with a shudder. There was a long, hesitated pause before Sandra spoke again.

"_Well, honey, maybe it's because he doesn't know how to talk to you."_

"I doubt that. He likes to talk. A lot. And he's really smart. Like genius smart."

"_Claire, did it ever cross your mind that maybe he just gets nervous, and he doesn't always know how to act around people? And maybe he's changed since you were in high school."_

"Yeah. I mean, I guess that makes sense."

"_So, when's your date?"_ Sandra asked knowingly.

"How did you…?"

"_You're my daughter. I know you better than you think."_

Claire sighed and replied, "It's in about," looking at her watch, "five minutes."

"_Well, I hope you two have fun. Call me later and let me know how it goes. I love you."_

"Okay, mom. I will. I love you, too." Click.

…

…

Gabriel knew he was early. He hated being late. Even with being able to fly, which of course cut down on traffic, he still left twenty minutes before his date with Claire. _I have a date with Claire! _His head screamed with elation. He landed on her roof within five minutes of leaving his own. He walked down the stairs from the rooftop, following the pull he felt to Claire's door. He always knew where to find her. It seemed to be a skill he had acquired since their first meeting. He was just about to knock until he heard Claire pacing, and her phone beeping. _She's calling someone,_ he thought. He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but he was extremely curious.

"**Hey, mom, can I talk to you for a minute?"**

"**Claire? Of course, honey! What is it?"**

_Her mother?_ he mused. _Interesting._

"**I'm having… boy trouble."**

"**Oh, Claire. You're not pregnant, are you?"**

It took all of his restraint not to laugh aloud at Sandra's accusation.

"**What? No. I've never even…"**

_Never what? _he desperately wanted to ask, though he felt he knew they answer. Something about Claire had always screamed "innocence." His thoughts were cut short as he heard Claire say "pretty eyes." _Hmm. _He was starting to wonder if Claire was talking about someone else, though he felt for sure she was referring to him. But he knew what would happen if he were to assume. The more he listened to the conversation, the more he wanted to know. He wanted to know what Claire was thinking every time she paused. Every time she stopped talking, he impatiently wanted her to finish her sentences. He actually had the stray thought of wanting Parkman's power. But he was reformed. He wouldn't do that.

_**You know you want to.**_  
**"Do you like him?"**

"**I think so. But I feel like I shouldn't."**

_Why does she not know how she feels about me? If it's even me she's talking about. She shouldn't fight with herself about anything like that. _

"_**Then what's the problem?"  
"Umm, well, when I was in high school, he was really… mean to me and my friends." **_

__Mean was an understatement. I tried to kill all of you. Multiple times. I sliced the top of your head off. I killed your birth parents. I… I did a lot. And you didn't deserve. You didn't deserve for me to do any of that to you, to any of you. I can only pray that one day you'll forgive me.

**It would work better if you actually said these things to her, and not just think them. Idiot.  
**Shut up.  
**"Well, honey, maybe it's because he doesn't know how to talk to you."  
"I doubt that. He likes to talk. A lot. And he's really smart. Like genius smart."  
"Claire, did it ever cross your mind that maybe he just gets nervous, and he doesn't always know how to act around people? And maybe he's changed since you were in high school."**

"**Yeah. I mean, I guess that makes sense."**

"**So, when's your date?"**

He didn't hear Claire answer. All he heard was the blood rushing to his head. So she had been referring me. She thinks I'm handsome. She thinks I have pretty eyes. She has feelings for me! He knew his cheeks were as red as tomatoes. He couldn't help it. No one had ever said those things about him, at least not to where he could hear. No one he was ever interested had ever called him handsome, or even described him as such_. She doesn't know I'm listening though. I shouldn't be listening._

Eventually, his thoughts hollowed. The ticking of his watch brought him back to where he was and what he was about to do. He was about to knock on Claire's door, alerting her to his presence. He checked the time. It was almost six. He looked down at his clothes, checking for anything that would be out of place. After exhaling deeply, he looked at the door in front of him—the only thing separating him from the woman he wanted the most. Nervously, he brought his hand up and rapped on the door. His preparation was over.


	6. The Date

"Coming!" he heard from the other side. The door swung open almost violently. "Oh, Gabriel. Come in. I just have to get my jacket," she said, turning from him and into her bedroom. He carefully walked in and surveyed the room around it. It was not ornate. It was not uncomfortable. It was simply Claire. The loft-like area was open to the kitchen, small dining area, and a living room. Small pictures of both her families took their place among the mantle that was over her small fireplace. A huge television set was centered above the pictures. There was a leather couch and love seat in an "L" shape around the coffee table.

He looked around and noticed a bookshelf in the corner, which he couldn't help but be drawn to. He hadn't really pegged her for the reading type. He noticed Dr. Chandra Suresh's book sticking out on the shelf. Just as he was about to pick it up, Claire walked out, wrapped in her black pea coat. It was then that he realized he hadn't noticed what she had been wearing.

…

Claire had just gotten off the phone with her mother when she heard the knock at her door. _Oh, God. How long has he been there? How much did he hear?_ she thought rapidly. "Coming!" she exclaimed as she hurried to the door. "Oh, Gabriel. Come in. I just have to get my jacket," she said. She bounced to her room, rummaging through her closet for her favorite formal coat. She heard him pacing around, as she had done just minutes earlier. She was curious to what he was looking at, but she had nothing to hide.

She looked at herself in her full-length mirror in amazement. There wasn't many things Angela could usually help her with, but this dress was perfect. She loved it immediately, and a small part of her hoped _Gabriel_ would like it, too. _Since when do I care what he thinks of what I'm wearing? ... I guess since he asked me to go on a date with him._ She wrapped her jacket around her, buttoning it quickly, and was glad she decided to put her hair up, especially since they would be flying. She smiled at her reflection and walked back into the living room to see him looking at her books. _Of course,_ she thought with a smile. _No matter how he dresses or how he acts, he will always be a nerd. A pretty damn good-looking nerd._ Immediately, she felt the blood rushing to her face. _Since when do I think about him like that?_ "Ready to go?" she asked as she stuffed her phone in her pocket.

"Yes," he said, almost disinterested.

"Are you okay?" she asked, leading him from her apartment.

"Yes," he replied in the same tone. She locked the door behind them and followed him to the roof.

"You seem… I don't know… detached."

"Forgive me," he said, flashing her a smile as he opened the exit to the roof. "I was deep in thought."

"Oh. May I ask what you were thinking?" she asked, trying her best to be polite.

"Just different things," he answered, dismissing her question.

"Alright," she sighed, exhaling deeply.

"How would you like to proceed?" he asked, flashing her a brilliant smile.

"With?" she questioned, curious to what he was talking about.

"How would you like to fly?"

"Oh. Um… Like this, I guess." She walked to him, though he wasn't far away. "Just don't freak out, okay?"

"Okay?" he said uncertain of what she was going to do. Carefully, she slipped her arms around his waist, locking her hands together. _I can't believe I'm hugging him…_ she thought as she placed her ear against his chest. She felt his breath hitch, and she was almost positive she heard his heartbeat quicken. She stiffened as he arms wrapped around her before she realized he needed to hold onto her so they could fly easier. "Well, this is… nice," he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

"It's like you've never been hugged before," she chuckled. She thought she heard him say something, but they shot into the air before the question could form on her lips.

This flight was so much better than the one she had experienced just hours earlier. For one, she wasn't surprised, and so she was able to prepare herself for the flight. For another, he smelled incredible. She didn't know if it was aftershave, or cologne, or whatever, but it smelled great. _Fresh, and woodsy, and clean, and it just smells like him_, her mind managed to process. She looked over his strong arm and marveled at the lights that flowed beneath them. She didn't know how high up they were, and she obviously wasn't scared. It's not like she could die. _And neither can he._

…

It wasn't long before their feet touched the ground, even though they were in an alley. He didn't want to attract any attention to them. They walked down the alley in silence, not standing close together or touching at all. They rounded the corner, and he could tell from Claire's reaction that she wasn't expecting to be where they were, right in front of Giovanni's Restaurant. It wasn't at all what he was expecting.

"It's so small," Claire said in disbelief. "I could never imagine Angela here."

"Neither could I," he said with a laugh. "But you're right. It's very… quaint." The two walked through the door of the small business, and were greeted by a small Italian man who asked what name their reservation was under and offered to take both of their coats. They complied, and Gabriel was thankful that he was finally able to see what this young woman was wearing. The dress was simple, but extremely elegant. It flattered her greatly. Though he didn't know much about women's fashion, or fashion in general, he knew that it was a sweetheart neckline. The white material was such a contrast to her bronzed skin. The top was shimmering in the faint light, letting the rest of it flow to her calves. He appraised the woman in front of him and was deeply impressed at the vision in front of him. He also noticed the slight pink that was in her cheeks.

"What?" she asked him. After a moment of no response, she asked again. "Gabriel, what are you staring at?"

He shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. "Claire, you look amazing," he said in a matter-of-a-fact way as his eyes bore into hers. The host walked them to their table, tactfully hidden away in a corner, forcing the two to sit next to each other. The host handed them their menus, asking if they would like a bottle of wine with their dinner. Without looking away from the blonde next to him, Gabriel simply said, "Pinot, please." And with that, they were left alone.

After many minutes of silence, Claire finally spoke. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"You said I looked good, and I was just thanking you for the compliment. You look pretty good, too," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper, but he could still hear her well. It seemed he was thanking _Sylar_ a lot more lately.

_**Why do you even try to distinguish yourself from me? The only difference is that you are a wimp. You're pathetic. You're stupid. **_

_Shut up. Leave me alone._

_**Hey, **_**Gabriel**_**, you brought me in to this!**_

Gabriel ignored the voice in his head, and started to pay attention to Claire. "There is no need to thank me for simply stating a fact. You, however, should not have said that I look good when we both know I am simply plain."

"Gabriel, I wasn't just saying my opinion. I was telling the truth, too. You're the human lie detector. Have I ever lied to you?"

He waited for a minute to see if he could feel the tell-tell tingle of a lie would be felt on his skin. Nothing. "I don't believe you have. Just as I have never lied to you."

"You've never lied to me?" she asked in astonishment.

"No. I never had a reason to. I may have stretched the truth, but I never told you a lie. Not a big lie. Not a white lie."

"Oh," she said, removing her superfluous gaze from him. He had a feeling tonight was going to be one of the nights he wished he had Parkman's power.

…

Claire couldn't help but stare at him, no matter how hard she tried not to. She was so accustomed to seeing him wearing all black, but here he was, wearing a blue shirt, and it looked remarkable on him. She subtly noticed that his hair wasn't in its normally disheveled state. It was shorter and combed to the side. It looked extraordinary on him. It made him look… _beautiful. _And it seemed every time she looked into his sparkling brown eyes, she got lost in them. She knew there was an uncomfortable, awkward silence around them, but she had no idea how to stop it. She was about to reach into her pocket for her phone before she realized it was in her coat, which the host had taken when they walked in. _Super_, she thought sarcastically.

After his confession of never lying to her, she didn't know what to say. That was something different. She knew others had lied to her. Noah, Nathan, Angela… They all had lied to her, and all more than once. She hated being lied to, no matter how small. "Thank you," she blurted out once again.

"For what, Claire?" he asked.

"Not lying to me. Everyone else I know has lied to me at some point. My dad, Nathan, Angela… I hate it. They never treated me as if I could handle the truth! I wish they would've just told me the truth no matter how bad it was," she vented in a low voice.

"I know how that is," he responded. "They all lied to me, too. My own mother, who wasn't really my mother, lied to me. My father. Angela. That was why I wanted to get this… power. Now I know when someone lies, though it doesn't go off often anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm not around a lot of people anymore. Since the carnival, I've been working at my old watch shop. Customers are rare, but I don't mind. Money isn't exactly an issue," he smiled.

"Did you know my dad lied about who my real parents were?" she asked after a minute of silence.

"No, I didn't. Why did he lie?"

"He didn't want me to know that Nathan and Meredith was my birth parents. And the fact that Angela told him not to tell me because it could hurt Nathan's image."

"It's funny how Angela continues to come into these things," he said, mostly to himself.

"Umm-hmm."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she said, taking a sip of wine, savoring the flavor she hadn't tasted in years.

"Why do you call Nathan and Angela by their first names? You don't call Angela 'Grandmother' unless you are with her. I don't understand."

"Even though they tried to protect me like family, I still feel like my adopted parents are really my parents. Noah and Sandra raised me. They took care of me. They made me part of their family, even after I knew I was adopted. They never treated me like I wasn't theirs. With Angela, the only reason I call her, 'Grandmother' to her face is that I feel like she deserves that little respect."

"But you don't call Peter your uncle, though you refer to him as such, do you not?"

"Yeah, but that's different. Peter's more like a brother to me. He never treated me like a kid or like I couldn't handle myself. Most importantly, he's never lied to me. I love them all, but honestly, Peter's probably the only one I trust."

"I understand that. It took me a long time to trust Peter. Well, it felt like a long time to us," his sentence drifted off. Somewhere in their conversation, they had ordered food, and even found the time to eat.

"Is Peter the only one you trust?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said in the same tone. "I trust Emma, too."

"Why just them?"

"They're the only ones who trust me," he said nonchalantly. He continued to look at her as they ate, carefully avoiding the way her lips pursed as she thought deeply. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," she said with a smile.

"You're lying," he responded, feeling a tingle wash over him.

"It's nothing I feel comfortable talking about right now. But I will ask you about it later," she promised. The awkward silence was thick around them. Here they were, two people who have known each other for six years, and yet, they barely knew each other. They knew they had a few things in common—as Sylar showed her years ago while she was in college—they only knew they both hated liars vehemently. Again, Claire was the first to break the silence. "So, they tell about you," she said, taking a bite of her dinner.

"What do you want to know?"

_If you only knew_, she thought. "When's your birthday? What's your favorite color? What were you like in school?"

He smiled at the simplicity of her questions. "My birthday is June 2. My favorite color is green. As well as school, I was a textbook nerd. Slicked back hair, thick glasses, sweater vests tucked in to my khaki pants. I excelled in every class, except physical education. I was in band for a while. I played the clarinet. I was bullied on a regular basis." _Surely she knew I was like that..._

"Oh." She was quiet as she processed what he said. "Well, at least you didn't have braces," she said, trying to lighten the mood. And if you tell anyone this I will kill you! But I had them all through junior high; The popular girls called me 'brace-face' for years. And at night, I had to wear _headgear!_ Ugh! It was horrible. But daddy always said it would be worth it in the long run," she said, flashing his a bright smile, subtly asking for confirmation.

"Well, Daddy Bennett didn't lie there. You have a beautiful smile," he said, giving her a smile of his own.

"Thank you," she said, taking a sip of wine. "Yours is great, too, as long as it's not that evil smirk!" she grinned. "What were your parents like?"

The smile on his face was quickly wiped away. He cleared his throat and looked at his plate. "I'd rather not talk about them." His voice wasn't loud, but she understood his tone.

"That bad?" He simply nodded once. "Are they worse than mine?"

"Worse them some, better than others," he shrugged.

"Well, that's vague," she chastised.

He glared at her, a look begging for to drop it. "So," he began, "tell me about you?"

"What do you want to know? Favorite color? Birthday?"

"That's a good start."

"I was born on August 21. My favorite colors are blue and yellow. What else?"

After a quiet moment, he looked at her and asked, "If you could be anything, what would it be? And please, don't say 'normal.'"

"I don't want to be normal," she laughed. "Umm. I don't know. I thought of being a paramedic, like Peter, and helping people. I could use my blood to save the ones who get hurt badly. Once I thought of being a stunt double, since I can't get hurt or anything. But, I think I want to help people. I mean, I'm almost done with college. I'm majoring in criminology, but I haven't really thought of what I'm going to do once I graduate."

"You could always be a lawyer. Who knows? We may need someone like you whenever we make ourselves known. It's not as if it would be that difficult for you to find a job, especially with Angela's connections. The only bad thing I see is that you haven't aged in six years. People may think you're inexperienced."

"I'm experienced enough," she defended, squinting her eyes at him.

He urged himself not to think of that phrase's double meaning. "I never said you weren't. I was stating that others may think that. Does that sound like something you would consider doing? I mean, it's your choice. No one is going to force you to do anything anymore."

The words coming from his lips were music to her ears. She admitted that she liked that. No one forcing her to do anything? That would be great. And she knew she would make a kickass lawyer, especially helping her kind. Her thoughts drifted to the man that had threatened her and her family many years ago. Ted Sprague, the nuclear man. She always had wished she could have helped him. He never meant to hurt his wife. He had been so scared of what was happening to him. She could relate, and it was then, she knew Gabriel was right. Someday soon, they would need someone like her in the justice system.

She remembered Nathan, and began to miss him terrible, despite his bad parenting. He could have helped them all with this. She felt Gabriel's eyes on her. She looked up from her almost empty plate and smiled a sad smile. She couldn't believe she was on a date that had killed the two men she had thought of.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Just thinking... You're right. The world is going to need me soon. Guess I should apply for law school, huh?" she chuckled lowly. "So, what about you? If you could be anything, what would you be?"

He sat in silence for a minute. With his own sad smile, he looked at her and said, "A watchmaker."

Caught by surprise, Claire looked at him astonished. "Really? Out of every occupation in the world, you want to be what you already are? You could be anything."

It was his turn to defend himself. "Yes," he practically hissed. _She sounds like mother,_ he thought with a shiver. "I love what I do. Putting the intricate pieces together to make something work is a good feeling. Fixing things that normal people can't makes me feel special." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Gabriel. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just... You're so smart, and you

understand things so easily. I could see you being anything.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked after taking his last bite of his pasta.

"Sure," she said, wiping her face and taking a last sip of wine. The maitre d' escorted them out, giving their jackets back to them, and wished them a good night. She pretended not to notice the two bills he handed the man, clearly as a tip and for the bill. They walked around to the back of building as they had when they arrived. As they lifted into the air, Claire quietly breathed, "Up, up and away." She didn't see the smile plastered to Gabriel's face.

…

…

"Hello, Lydia," a voice from the dark called. The tattooed woman knew the voice entirely too well. She had heard it for years.

"Hello, Samuel," she replied uneasily. "How are you?"

"Splendid," he said sarcastically. "I need you to do something for me."

"Skipping the pleasantries, I see. What?" she asked, turning from her stove to face the man she had come to hate.

"I need to know where I need to go," he said unblinkingly. "And some clothes." He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, brandishing his bare arm to her.

"I cannot do either. I have no ink, nor men's clothes."

"Here," he said, pushing an inkbottle to her.

"Are you going to go after them?" she asked, knowing the man's intentions the moment her skin touched his.

"Not them. Just one. The rest will follow."


	7. The Chase

They walked a few blocks to the theater, casually walking a friendly distance away from the other. "What show are we going to see?" Claire asked, looking up at the man next to her, grinning brightly.

"It's a surprise," he teased.

"Oh, come on!" she whined playfully. "Please?"

With a smile to match hers, Gabriel gazed at the blonde, and felt his hand twitch towards hers. "We're going to see _The Phantom of the Opera_," he replied.

"Really?" she shrieked. "I've always wanted to see it live! I'm seen all the movies that was made about it, but I've never seen it as a play. My favorite was the one that came out a few years ago. The one with Gerald Butler. I never knew he could sing like that..." she dazed dreamily with a girlish smile on her face.

"I don't watch movies often," he admitted, breaking her trance.

"Do you even own a television?" she asked jokingly.

"Yes, I do. I like to keep up with current events, and the occasional movie."

"What movie is your favorite?"

"I'm not sure that I have one. I am deeply fascinated with both _Star Trek _and _Star Wars._ I'm not sure why, but space is very intriguing."

"Ah, I love those movies! When I was a kid, I used to watch the _Star Trek_ series with my dad, but it was only recently that I actually watched the _Star Wars_ movies." She looked at him as she told him this random tidbit of her life. She wondered if he ever experienced these things with his father, or if he could even imagine her watching these things with her dad. The more she looked at him, the more he looked like... "Oh my god. You look like Spock."

"What?"

"You look like Spock... From the new _Star Trek_... If you had pointed ears, you would so be him." She reached up on her tiptoes, and pulled the tip of his ear upward teasingly. "Yep, you totally do," she smiled.

"Okay, okay," he said, swatting her hand away. She began to lose her balance, and arms began to flail. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling. The position left them bent over in what seemed as a lovers embrace. Their faces were inches apart, and each could feel the other's breath. "You okay?" he asked, not moving from their stance.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. She cleared her throat, and tried to lean back up. He caught the hint and straightened them back up.

"Sorry," he said, not looking at her, but keeping his eyes low.

"For what? You just kept me from falling. I should be saying 'Thank you,'" she said, smiling.

"Oh. Then, you're welcome." He risked the chance to look at her, and suddenly knew he shouldn't have. The smile on the small blond was so amazing that it took his breath away.

...

"You know, I totally understand why Christine had a thing for the Phantom," Claire said after they walked out of the theater.

"Why is that?" Gabriel asked curiously.

"Because he tried as hard as he could to show her what he could do for her, and even though everyone else saw him as a monster, she saw him as a man."

"Hmmm," was all he said. They flew back to her apartment in silence, each thinking separate thoughts. They landed with a small thud, and Claire was thankful she had brought a jacket. The surrounding air was cold, and she was curious to when the first snowfall would be. She slowly stepped away from him, and saw him shiver.

"Would you like to come in?" she found herself asking.

"I don't want to impose," he said with a smile.

"You're not imposing. I'm asking you if you would like to."

"As long as I'm not imposing," he asked, holding the door open for the young woman.

"You're not," she insisted again. She took one last look into the darkened sky above her before walking through.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

"I was wondering if it may snow soon."

"Perhaps," he said huskily.

"I like the snow," she said as they walked to her apartment. "We never had it much in Odessa or Coasta Verde with it being so far south and everything."

"I'm indifferent about it."

"I think it's beautiful. The whiteness, the fluffiness," she giggled, sounding like a younger girl than what she really was. She unlocked her door, and led him in, setting her jacket over the couch.

"These flowers are beautiful," he said, closing in on her counter.

"Oh, I forgot to thank you for those. I love them," she said, turning to him.

"Why would you thank me?" he asked, looking at her incredulously.

"Didn't you send them?" she asked, suddenly scared.

"No. I had thought about it, but no, I didn't send them."

"Then who…" He reached out and touched the flowers. He saw Noah handing them to her. He saw them being placed on her doorstep by the deliverer. He could smell the dirt, and the aroma of the flower shop. He heard a man requesting for those specific ones, and in an instant, he knew who had sent them.

"Samuel."

...  
...

Hearing the name come from his lips made her stop in her tracks. Immediately, she reached for her phone and dialed her dad's number. "Hey Dad."

"_Hey, honey. Did you have a good time?"_

"Yeah, we did. Umm… Remember those flowers that I thought were from Gabriel?" How could she tell him that Samuel was after her? Just the thought of being on the run again put a knot in her stomach, and not in the good way. She hated running. She thought back to how she had run from Sylar. Absentmindedly, she looked to the man watching her. She couldn't understand how yesterday she didn't want anything to do with him, and now, he was in her apartment. They had just been on a date. He was different from the man that had hunted her. He was different…

"_Yeah… What about them?"_

"Well, they weren't. They're from… Samuel." Her voice was almost in a whisper, but she was panicking more than she let on.

"_How do you know?"_

"Gabriel used one of his abilities…"

"_Stay there. I'm coming over."_

"Really, dad? That's the first thing you want to do? No. You'd be in danger, too. If he knows where I live, he probably knows where you all live, too. We have to pretend like we don't have anything to do with each other or something. Please, dad. Just don't get involved."

"_Is Gabriel there?"_

"Yes, he's still here."

"_Let me talk to him."_

"Okay." She pulled the phone from her ear and handed it to him. "Here. He wants to talk to you." _Now he's bringing Gabriel into it? Well, he was already here. He was kind of already in it. Doesn't make it fair though. Why can't my family just stay safe? _She sighed heavily. _At least Peter and Emma are okay. Mom and Lyle are okay. Anyone who's not in New York is safe. Right?_

_._..

"Hello?" Gabriel asked into the phone. _Why does he want to talk to me?_

"_Gabriel, I want you to convince her to go to your place."_

"What? No. I can't do that." _What is he thinking? This is his daughter, who I actually feel very strongly for, and he wants me to take her to my apartment? _

"_Look, I know you want to protect her. Samuel knows where she lives, so we need to get her out of there. It doesn't seem like she'll listen to me. Do what you can to get her out of there!" _Noah exclaimed in a whisper.

"But…" _But there has to be other options. My apartment? Why not Angela's home?_

"_No buts, Gabriel. I'm only asking you to do this because she's my daughter, and she's in danger. It's clear she doesn't want my help, so I'm not going to push it. Please, do what you can. You're the only who is strong enough to protect her."_

"Okay. We'll contact you later." Gabriel hung up the phone, staring as Claire stared at him. _How ironic. I'm the only one who can protect her? She doesn't really need protecting. She can't die. Unless she gets hit in that one spot that makes her different. That one place in her brain… _"He wants me to take you to my apartment," he said bluntly, setting the phone next to her on the counter.

"Okay… Wait, what?" she asked, confused.

"He wants me to protect you. He said I'm the only one strong enough. I can't say I like the idea, but he makes sense."

"I'm fine here," she protested.

"Then, I'll stay here. But seeing as Samuel clearly knows where you live, I don't believe it is the safest option."

"And going home with you is?" Her voice rose in pitch, an obvious sign of her stress.

"I think leaving New York is the safest option, but I know you don't want to run. The only reason we're not staying here is because Samuel seems to be coming after _you_. He's messing with you, Claire! The same way Sylar used to!" Their eyes bore into each other's as his words left his mouth. He hadn't intended to raise his voice, but he felt like he needed to in order to get his point across. "The same way I used to…" he murmured. He wanted to touch her. He could see the tears forming behind her eyes and how she was holding them back. He wanted to console her, and tell her how sorry he was.

_**Do it, you idiot. You've already said that it was you, too, and not just me. That you stalked her, tortured her, hunted her. **_

"Claire," he started, walking toward her.

"Don't." She stepped away from him, tears threatening to overflow. She turned to her room, and simply said, "Let me get my things."

…

Claire couldn't believe her ears. He had just admitted that he and Sylar were one, but it seemed so surreal. She knew it was true. That was why she hated him. That was why she never wanted to be around him. That was why she wanted so badly to kill him… She saw him step toward her, saying her name, and she couldn't help but flinch away. She didn't want to be near him right now. She didn't want to be in the same state, much less the same room. So she did what she could and walked to her room. "Let me get my things." The words were hoarse. Her throat had gone dry since knowing Samuel was so close.

She closed her door behind her as a tear fell from her eyes. She wiped her eyes angrily, not wanting to cry. _How can you even want to cry? Shouldn't you want to kill him? He had always divided himself from Sylar. But then, he said they were one. They are not the same though._ Her mind battled. One half saying they were the same, that there wasn't anything that separated them. The other half screamed, saying they were different. Gabriel was sweet and caring and charming, and even a little shy. Sylar was straightforward, creepy, evil, and soulless. _They were two people, trapped in the same mind. Like Nicole and Jessica._

The biggest question that plagued her mind was 'could she trust him?' Could she trust the man that had stalked her? Could she trust the man that endangered her repeatedly? No. But she could trust the man that is willing to risk his own life in order for her to be safe. She could trust the man that Peter now felt was like a brother to him.

She changed out of her dress and in to a sweater and jeans. She gathered several sets of clothes along with her toiletries. She didn't know how long she was going to be on the run. Nevertheless, she wanted to be prepared. She stuffed the items in the smallest bag they could fit in and tried to calm herself, though it didn't seem to help. She walked out of her room, and pulled her coat on, and the bag along with it. She didn't look at Sy—Gabriel. She turned, and as she saw the flowers, her rage took over. She grabbed the vase and threw it onto the ground. The glass shattered, pieces running in every direction. She didn't care that the water could mess the floor up, or if the flowers died where they were. She grabbed her lifeline, and walked to her door. She didn't hear the footsteps behind, though she knew he was there, watching her every move. _I guess not everything about him changed, _she thought angrily. She locked the door behind them and headed toward the roof once again. This was starting to be a habit she didn't exactly care for.

Claire didn't look at him as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her much tighter to him than earlier. Instead of hugging against him, she tightly held on to his lapels of his jacket. She felt him exhale against her head, and in a moment, they were in the air again. This time, she didn't look to the lights dancing on the ground. She didn't look up to the beautiful face that was towering above her. She silently prayed she wouldn't cry. Anger flooded her body again. She could feel her blood pressure rising, heat burning her on face.

_I shouldn't have to run. He couldn't hurt me, even if he wanted to. I can't die._ _Why is he after me anyway? I didn't send him to jail. I ... I did. Dad did, but it was my fault. I let Dad send him away instead of locking him up in a simple jail. I let Peter stop him. I convinced the entire Carnival to turn against him. It's all my fault._

She didn't see where he had taken her. She had already accepted the fact that she trusted him, and that he wouldn't do anything to hurt her, even if he could. They landed after several minutes, but neither on a roof or in an alley. Instead, they were directly in front of an older building. "Where are we?" she asked in a small voice as she stepped away from him.

"Queens. We are at my apartment, close to my shop."

"Don't you think Samuel will know you're here?"

"No," he said without explanation. In silence, they walked up the stairs to his apartment. He stopped abruptly, unlocking his door and allowed her in. At first, she saw nothing, and the thought mildly scared her. He immediately flipped on a light, highlighting the features of his home. It was similar to hers in layout, but with much different furniture. While she had brown couches and black tables with colorful throw pillows, he had gray couches, black pillows, and glass tables against his hardwood floors. She smirked to herself, laughing at the major difference they had in style. But of course, she knew that from the moment they first met. She wore every color. He wore black.

"What do you think?" he asked, as he slipped his shoes off.

"I think it's... clean. And different from what I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"A lot more black." She saw him smirk and instantly regretted looking at him. That look made things seems less worse than they were, and she didn't like it. She knew how it was, and she didn't want to be fooled into thinking otherwise.

"Well, um, you can have my room. If you give me a moment, I will make it a little more presentable." He walked to his room without a backwards glance. Claire suddenly felt intrigued. What was it that he needed to do? Hide his pornos? She decided to follow him, and ask him.

"What're you gonna do? Hide your pornos?" She had meant for it to be a joke.

"No," he glared. "I'm giving you fresh sheets."

"It was a joke," she defended. "But thank you. You don't have to."

"No, you are my guest. It would be improper for it to be otherwise."

She watched as he pulled the black comforter off his king size bed. "How did you get that thing in here?" she asked.

"Very carefully." He stacked the pillows and blanket in the nearby chair, and stripped the bed of its very red sheets. He walked over to his closet and retrieved the fresh, white sheets.

"Would you like some help?" He simply nodded as he flapped the fitted sheet open, allowing her to tuck the corners. "So why do you have that chair in here?"

"Sometimes I can't sleep, so I sit there and read. It's much more comfortable than sitting in my bed to do so."

"Sometimes I can't sleep either. I usually try to find a movie to watch or something..."

"That happens on occasion as well. I like _The Lord of The Rings_."

"I do, too. If I'm tired enough, I sometimes don't make it out of the Shire," she chuckled.

"Yes. I am particularly fond of that movie, though I don't know why." After a moment, he said, "I don't like not knowing things."

"Everyone is like that. Well, except Matt Parkman. If he doesn't know something, he noses around until he does."

"He tried doing that last night at Peter's reception."

"About what?"

"He wanted to know why we were staring at each other during the wedding. He assumed there was something going on between us."

"And what did you say?" she partially shrieked.

"I told him it was none of his business and blocked him from my thoughts."

"I didn't know you could do that."

"It has taken some practice. But I can feel a pull in my head when he tries, and if I focus on it, he can't read," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Hmm..." They pulled the thick blanket back onto the bed, and she helped change the pillowcases. She sat in the empty chair and watched as he stacked the four pillows into their belonged positions. "May I use your bathroom?" she asked.

"Claire, although you are my guest, you do not have to ask to use anything. You are welcome to anything I have to offer."

"Thanks," she mumbled. She grabbed her bag and walked into his bathroom. After changing once again—this time into her fleece pajamas—she washed her face and released her hair from its tight knot. She felt the sense of relief as her hair bounced down her back. She folded the clothes she had been wearing and stuffed them into her bag. She opened the door that led to his bedroom and chunked her bag onto the bed. She knew it was close to midnight, but she wasn't at all tired. She wondered if she even needed sleep, or if her body was just accustomed to it.

She sighed and walked into his living room to see that he had changed as well. He was lounging on his couch, stretched out in his black and gray plaid bottoms with a plain white t-shirt. She wasn't surprised to see that he was reading, but she was surprised to see that he had adorned a new accessory. Thick-rimmed black glasses. She had never seen him wear them before, but they flattered him. She thought that if it were at all possible, he actually looked more handsome in them. She stood in the doorway, astonished.

"At what are you staring?" he asked, not looking up from his book.

"You're wearing glasses..."

"Yes. Among the many things I am able to fix, my eyesight is not one of them. When I am out, I wear contacts. I wear my glasses when I am either working or reading. They are more precise than the lenses."

"They look good on you," she said casually, walking to his refrigerator as if she had lived there for years. She failed to see the look on his face as he watched her. She opened the door and searched for one thing she prayed he had: a bottle of Pinot. After successfully locating an open bottle, she asked, "Where are your wine glasses?"

"Uh, the cabinet to your right."

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, pouring her a rather large glass. It's not as if it would affect her.

"Not as long as you bring me one, too," he said with a smile.

...

...

Samuel smiled as he saw Gabriel and Claire soar off the roof of her apartment building. His plan had worked. Not only was she running from him, but she was running exactly where she wanted him to. She was running into the arms of Gabriel Gray. Of Sylar. He already knew Noah was going to be involved, and sooner or later, so would that brat, Peter. He had been itching for this for two years. No one could stop him now. He loved the feeling of power, the feeling of knowing someone feared him. He didn't know when it happened, but he had found a new love. He loved the chase.


	8. Sleeping Arrangements

To say that Noah was panicked was an understatement. He had known Samuel was back. Not only had he heard it on the news, but Claire had told him as well. Knowing this man was out there, and after his daughter no less, made his blood begin to boil. He had gone through this too many times. Too many times, he had failed. He would not fail again. No one would take his Claire-bear away from him. Not again.

"This is not Sylar," Lauren told him. "This is Samuel. He only has one power, and as long as Rene is around, she will be safe."

"She'll be safe with Gabriel," he said, wrapping an arm around his new fiancée. "He... He loves her, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

"Does she even trust him?" she asked, turning to face him.

"I believe she does. She would not have gone on a _date_ with him if she did not."

"I thought that she only did that because of Angela?"

"Oh, Angela may have had a hand in it, but Claire doesn't always do what others insist she do."

"You would know."

"Yes, I would. She is my daughter. I raised her. I know how stubborn she can be."

"Well, you can't say that's a Petrelli trait, now can you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're pretty damn stubborn sometimes, too. So are the Petrelli's. Maybe its equal in nature as it is in nurture," she speculated. They lay together quietly before Lauren spoke again. "You really think she'll be okay?"

"Yes, I do. Gabriel has changed a lot since his days as Sylar. I believed everything he and Peter said about their time together. Who would lie about something like that?"

...

...

Claire sat on the other couch, sipping her wine as Gabriel eyed her intensely. "What?" she finally asked.

"Hmm?"

"What are you staring at? You're looking at me like you're scared I'm going to spill it."

"Just be careful," he said, gritting through his teeth.

"I'm not going to spill it..." she promised.

"Good," he said, turning back to his book. He tried reading it. He really did; however, it seemed every time he looked at the words on the pages, they blurred together, and it had nothing to do with his eyes. He just couldn't concentrate on the book when Claire was sitting just feet away from him. He remembered his outburst from earlier when he had yelled at her, and he suddenly felt the need to apologize, not just about earlier. "Claire," he began, setting the book on the table, and turning on the couch to see her easier.

"I'm not gonna spill it!" she exclaimed, looking at him with her big, green eyes.

"No, it's not that. I need to talk to you."

"About what?" she asked, her face turning pink.

He removed himself from his own seat and instead took it next to her. "Claire, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I'm..."

"Do we have to do this right now?" she interrupted.

He sighed deeply, anger and sorrow filling his chest. "Yes. Please. Claire... I'm sorry for hurting you, your friends, and your family. I'm... I'm sorry for killing Nathan, and I know that saying sorry doesn't make up for anything. I'm sorry for everything that I did while I was Sylar. I was evil, and I know that. I was a monster. I hurt you and so many others. I stalked you... hunted really. I chased after you, just to get your power, and even after I had it, it wasn't enough. I never let you go. I was obsessed with you. I wanted..." _I wanted you. I wanted you to love me. _"I don't know what I wanted. There was just something about you that I couldn't get over. I can't tell you how sorry I am for all of that. I know you can't forgive me today, but I hope one day you can." He risked this moment to look at her. Her green eyes were filled with tears, and he hated that he had caused her to cry. And it probably wasn't the first time. He took his glasses off, and set them on the table. He could see her perfectly. "And here I am, hurting you again. Claire, please, just tell me what I can do. Tell me, and I'll do it!" He was begging now, and he didn't care at all.

"Turn back in to Sylar!" she yelled, slamming her empty glass onto the table.

"W—what?" he stuttered. "Surely you don't mean that."

"Turn back in to Sylar so I can hate you again. Turn back in to him so I won't have to forgive you, or accept your apology, or even like you! Turn back into him so I won't have to pretend to know why you're so nice to me, or why you like me." She grabbed her legs and held them to her chest, burying her head into her knees.

_**You heard her. Let me out. Let her see me, and she'll beg to have you. Let me out, Gabriel. **_

_No. I'll never let you out again._ "No. I'll never let him out again. I know I just said I'd do what you told me to, but I won't do that. You don't want him."

"What if I do? What if I want Sylar?" she snarled, looking at him with a tear-stricken face.

"Because no one wanted him. He was a monster. All he did was hurt people. I don't want to be that person anymore! I don't want to hurt you anymore. I've changed."

She glared up from her knees, her eyes pouring tears no matter how hard she tried to stop. "You don't just get to say you're sorry and make everything go away!" she screamed.

He jumped when her words left her lips. He hadn't expected her to yell, and now he just wanted to curl up himself. He had never been so open before. The last time he had apologized like this was to Peter, and that was after being locked away together for years. "I already said you don't have to forgive me now. I wasn't expecting you to. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I am." Silently, he stood from his seat and walked into his bedroom. He opened the double doors that led to his fire escape and leaned against the railing, looking up into the night sky. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, trying to relieve the pressure building in his occipital lobe. He felt tears pushing against his eyelids, but he forced them away. He had never cried in his life, and he wasn't going to start now.

_This isn't going exactly as I planned... _he thought numbly.

_**What were you expecting? Did you think she would jump into your lap, saying she forgives and that she loves you? Do you really expect her to ever forgive you for killing Nathan and doing all those things to her? Are you really **_**that**_** stupid? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you are. You're crazy if you think she would ever forgive you, never mind actually love you. You are just...**_

___Sylar. Shut. Up. I'm never letting you out again. You can't control me. I think I may love her. And if it wasn't for you and your psychotic motives, she could have loved me, too. But you're right about one thing. I never expect her to forgive me, or love me. She could have so much better than me. She will have better than me. Samuel won't get to her. I will protect her. I'm strong enough to protect her._

_**So, shouldn't you thank me? I'm the one that made you strong enough. Without me, you would just be tinkering away in your watch shop. You would have never met Claire, Peter, Mohinder, or Elle. You would have never met your real father.**_

___I could live without those last few._

_**But not Claire? You think you couldn't live without her? You did before.**_

___That wasn't living! That was... I don't know. Taking the easy path. I did things I was good at doing: fixing things. That's all I ever did. And now, all I want to do is fix the damage you caused between Claire and myself._

_**Yet another thing you should tell **_**her**_**. Telling me won't do anything.**_

Gabriel sat on the first steps of the stairwell, and put his face in his hands. He wondered how long she would be with him. He wondered if Noah would send the Haitian to help. He wondered how strong Samuel had gotten within the last couple years. He was so wrapped in his thoughts that he didn't hear the movement in the other room.

...

Claire heard him leave the room. She felt the draft move through his apartment as he opened the doors in his room. She clung to herself tighter, trying to force herself not to cry anymore. _It was so much easier to just hate him. It was so much easier when he was trying to kill me! But now, he's being all nice... and he apologized. He said he was sorry for everything. But I've heard that before, although not that in depth. It's no wonder everyone was taken by surprise that he had been a murderer. He has the most innocent face and eyes. He really is handsome. Angela was right about that. _

She didn't know what to say. She still couldn't forgive him. What he had done was unforgivable. _Right?_ _No. Peter did it. Nathan was his brother. They were much closer than I had ever been to him. And now Peter is like the older brother I never had... If Peter can forgive him, then I can, too._ She straightened up, wiping the dried tears from her face. She poured her a fresh bit of wine and downed it, momentarily wishing could feel the effects of alcohol. She stood up to stretch and looked at the book that Gabriel had been so obviously _trying_ to read. _Leaves of Grass._ _I didn't think he would like that._ She heard a thud, but just assumed it was Gabriel going into his bathroom.

Just a moment later, she heard a knock on the door. Claire jumped at the unexpected sound. She rushed to the door and looked through the peephole. "What the..." she opened the door hesitantly. "Amanda? What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," the almost stranger replied.

"I asked what you were doing here."

"I'm here to see Gabriel."

"Well, come in, I guess. I'll get him." Claire deliberately stomped toward the man's room. "Gabriel, you have a visitor." The man looked at her with reddened eyes. She ignored the pain that was plastered to his face.

"Who?" he asked hoarsely.

"Amanda. Lydia's daughter," she said, walking away from him and into the living room, plopping onto the couch, and returned to sipping her wine.

"Hi, Amanda. What brings you here?" he asked casually, removing his thick glasses from his face.

"Hi, _Gabriel._ I need to talk to you. _Alone,_" the girl hissed toward Claire.

"Oh," Claire said, standing to leave the two.

"Amanda, anything you need to tell me, you can tell to Claire as well."

Amanda huffed as she glared at Claire, who sat back down on the couch. "First off," the girl began, already cocking an attitude, "what is she doing here?" Her voice was low, but the poison in the words could be felt throughout the room.

"She's my guest," he said simply, not stating the real reason why she was there.

"Well, I assume you know Samuel broke out of jail?"

"Yes. I saw it on the news last night."

"He paid my mother a visit early this morning. He wanted a place to stay and some ink, but thankfully, she refused to let him stay. After he left, she told me what she saw him coming after you. _Both_ of you."

"We already knew that. He sent me _flowers_," she scoffed with a shiver. _Why do I attract the creeps?_ she thought.

"Oh. Well did you know that it's not just you two he's after? He's after all of the ones who shut down the carnival. I don't know all your names, and honestly, I don't really care. But, you saved us once, so I feel that I should've warned you."

"Thank you, Amanda," Gabriel said politely. "Is that all?"

"Yeah. Guess I'll see you later. Maybe. Bye," she said before letting herself out. Gabriel locked the door, and looked to his guest on his couch.

"Well—ahem—that was informative. I guess we should start finding people soon?" he asked, pushing his glasses back on his face.

"Yeah," she said, not looking to the man standing across the small living area. "I'm going to go to bed." She stood from her seat, chugged the last bit of her wine, and took her glass to the sink. "Good night, Gabriel." She shut the door behind her, and thought twice about locking the door. Seeing as it was the only way to get to the bathroom, and that he could always unlock it if he wanted, she decided against it. She lay on his freshly lined bed and wished she could will herself to sleep. She had so many things going through her mind, and she hated that she was going to have another sleepless night thanks to him. She grabbed her phone from her jacket, and sent a text to her friends. _Talked 2 Lydia's daughter. Samuel's comn 4 us. Be careful. Stay safe,_ she typed quickly.

Lying on the bed, she tossed and turned, unable to be comfortable. She had never realized a king size bed could be so huge. _And Gabriel is in the other room, laying on the couch. Pssh. He deserves it. I hope he messes his back up. _She dug through her bag, looking for the one thing guaranteed to help put her to sleep. Dr. Suresh's sleeping pills—high doses of melatonin. She swallowed two pills without reserve, and minutes later, she was asleep.

...

Gabriel heard her click-click-click on her phone and ruffle through her bag. He heard her grab what sounded like a bottle of pills, and minutes later, he could hear her breathing, and heart rate level out. If it were any other girl, he would have panicked; thinking about the alcohol she had consumed along with God knows what kind of pills. _She can't die, not like that. And if I can help it, not ever._ He laid his book back on the table and emptied his own glass. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep listening to her heartbeat.

...

Claire awoke many hours later, curiously to where she was. The giant bed, dark room... _Gabriel,_ she thought. She sat up on the bed and carefully walked into the kitchen, trying hard not to wake the man. She quietly fixed herself a glass of water, downing it quickly, before obtaining another. _Bad thing about those stupid pills. Really bad cotton mouth. _She walked back to his room and took one look to the man whose house she was in. She almost laughed aloud at seeing him. His long body was stretched across the too small couch. His head was propped too high on the arm rest, a leg over the opposite arm rest, with his other leg off the edge of the couch. She shook her head, looking to the unusually unkempt man who was still wearing his thick glasses. She sighed, turning back to the bedroom. She pushed the blankets on the bed back and walked back to Gabriel. She kneeled next to him and shook him lightly. "Gabriel," she whispered. After no response, she whispered a little louder and shook a little harder. "Gabriel," she said again.

"What?" he said, jerking up. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Come on. Come lay down," she said, offering him a hand as she stood up. He grabbed her hand and pushed himself from the couch, staggering a little. She wrapped her small arm around him and helped him as best she could to the giant bed in the next room. "Here you go, big guy," she said, helping him onto the edge of the bed. He laid back with a groan, and she heard his joints pop into place. She pulled the blanket up around him, and pulled his glasses from his face. She gently leaned over and placed a small kiss on his cheek. She walked back toward the door, and just as she was about to close the door, she heard him say something. "What?" she asked, poking her head back in the room.

"Where are you going?" he asked hoarsely.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch. I'll fit much easier than you."

"Don't go," he said pleadingly.

"What?" she asked again, wondering if she had just heard him right.

"Stay," he said with a yawn. Cautiously, she walked back to the bed and laid down once again, this time on the far side of the bed. "Thank you," he whispered, turning on his side away from her. She sighed heavily and slowly drifted back to sleep, thinking she was glad the bed didn't feel as small as it had felt before.


	9. Getting to Know You

Gabriel felt the tug of consciousness pulling at his mind. He knew he was laying on his bed, though he vividly remembers falling asleep, however uncomfortably, on his couch. He felt a warmness pressed against him, and he reveled it in. It felt wonderful, whatever this perfectly shaped figure was. _Why had I fallen asleep on the couch? Let's see. Reading. Glasses. The awkward evening with... CLAIRE!_ He had gone on a date with Claire. Claire was in his apartment! Claire was supposed to be sleeping in his bed. But he was sleeping in his bed. His body tensed as he slowly opened his eyes. At first, the blinding light was almost too much. After blinking several times, he realized that it wasn't the sun in his face, but golden, silky hair against his pillow, billowing out as if it were a halo around the head of the young woman in front of him. He looked down to the figure snuggled against him and was in awe. Even without his glasses, he could see that she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She was perfect.

He felt the greatest urge to bring her closer to him, to hold her body to his, and primarily to kiss her. He could smell her natural perfume now, like vanilla and honey. He could hear her heart beat rhythmically and as loud as a drum in her chest, and the shallow breaths she made subconsciously. He wanted to caress her face, bring it to his, and bury himself in her hair. He prayed she wouldn't wake soon, just so he could be with her like this without her knowing or really caring. "Claire," he whispered as he resisted the temptation to move a few stray strands of hair from her face.

...

Claire knew she was asleep. It was entirely too warm for her to be awake. Too warm, too comfortable, and too perfect. Instinctively, she moved closer to the warmth and relished when it didn't move away. She didn't try thinking about where she was or what had happened the previous night. This warm, comfortable bed and this warm being next to her was just so amazing right now.

She heard her name from a familiar voice, but remained perfectly still. She tried not to think about where she was, or how she got there, but it crept into her mind anyway, like a spider crawling through the tiniest crack. The proverbial spider began spinning webs of memories of the past few days.

Peter and Emma's wedding. The dance with Gabriel. The kiss with Gabriel. The date with Gabriel. Samuel's flowers. She tried not to visibly shudder, but she wasn't sure if it was fully suppressed. That was when it hit her like a ton of bricks. She had fallen asleep, after drinking several glasses of wine, in Gabriel's bed. She remembers being scared and angry for several reasons. Samuel was one of them, but she knew she didn't really have anything to worry about that. It would all be taken care of, because with the people in her family, she wouldn't have to worry about anything.

Her main concern was Gabriel/ Sylar. What an insane pair. Primarily Sylar, but something about Gabriel was insane, too. She remembers his admittance, but it was the truth, and they both knew it. She wasn't angry now.

She sighed internally, and she knew it was time to wake up. Slowly, she opened her eyes, only to gasp at the sight in front of her. Gabriel was staring at her intently, but with the most peculiar look in his eyes. His hair was ruffled, and there was stubble across his face. He looked breathtaking. Before she could say something that would ultimately embarrass her, she pulled a few stray strands of hair from her face and whispered, "Good morning."

"Morning. How did you sleep?" he asked as a small smile began to push up the edges of his mouth.

"Well enough," she said with a shrug. "Yourself?"

"Better than I have in a while. And I really must thank you for waking me up this morning. I would've been horribly cranky if I had slept on that tiny thing last night," he chuckled.

"You're very welcome, then." A few locks of hair fell in his face, and before he could move them himself, she brought her hand up and quickly pushed them back. Her fingertips slightly grazed his cheek, and she was glad her hand didn't flinch away so easily. Neither did he. _Not the most horrible way to wake up, _she thought with a small smile.

...

He watched carefully as she slowly pushed his hair back from his face. Her fingertips brushed his cheek, and it sent a small electric shock through his body.

"Would you like some breakfast?" he asked, sitting up abruptly. She noticed his clothes were the same ones from the previous night.

"I would love some. How about you go shower, and change into some more comfortable clothes and I'll make breakfast?" she offered, pulling her hair into a low ponytail.

"Claire, you're my guest. You don't have to."

"I want to," she assured, reaching for her bag of clothing. "Now go. I'll be done by the time you are."

He did as he was told. He gathered his own clothes and watched hesitantly as she began pulling out her own. He could not help but notice how her shirt had ridden up as reached into her bag, and he suddenly realized a certain problem with waking up with a beautiful blond in his bed. He quickly shut the bathroom door, and began to deal with that particular problem.

...

Claire watched as he hurried to the bathroom, and she quickly changed back into her jeans and sweater from the previous evening. She couldn't help but stare at him while he wasn't looking. He looked quite marvelous with bed head and morning stubble. She smiled as she pulled her sweater over her stomach and walked into the front portion of the apartment. Immediately, she walked to the refrigerator and began picking out ingredients for her favorite breakfast. She looked around, curious to if there was a radio or something to keep her from thinking about the very naked man just a room away. Hastily, she turns the tv on to some music channel just loud enough to prevent her from hearing the water.

She sighed as she mixed the ingredients together, glad he actually had what she needed. She mixed the batter as she listened to the song. It wasn't something she knew, but she didn't change it. At least it was something to stop her from thinking so much. She was still entirely too grateful that Sylar hadn't chopped off Matt's head those few years ago. She wished desperately that he hadn't been fooling her this entire time by actually having said power and not telling her. _Oh, god, _she thought as she poured the batter on the sizzling skillet. _What if he's been reading my thoughts this entire time? Oh... Oh, god..._ She flipped the pancakes, and mulled over her thoughts. _Well then, I'll just have to ask him about that, _she finalized with a nod.

She piled the pancakes on to two plates, and pulled out two glasses. She took the milk and orange juice out of the fridge, and sat down to wait. It wasn't long before he walked out of the other room as he waved a towel across the top of his head. "Something smells delicious," he said with a smile.

"Good," she said, looking around for the syrup. "Please tell me you have something to go with this?" she asked, looking around dismayed. She was against the back counter, and had already looked through the cabinets.

"I do," he said, walking toward her. He stepped right in front of her, and smiled intriguingly.

"What're you—" she began to ask. He reached above her, and grabbed the Aunt Jemima bottle from the top shelf. "Oh. Well, no wonder." She said with a laugh. "And my favorite, too."

He continued to look at her with amusement. He was still standing dangerously close to her. She could smell his body wash, and she almost wanted to close her eyes and melt into him. Instead, she just watched him watch her. Neither of them said anything. Absentmindedly, she ran a hand up the front of his loose white shirt, feeling the muscles it harbored beneath it. "Ahem... here," he mumbled, finally stepping away from her.

"Thank you," she said, managing to slip by him. She sat down at the island and doused her pancakes with the liquid sweetness. She set the bottle down and poured herself a generous glass of milk. It was several minutes before either of them spoke. "So, do you eat pancakes a lot?"

"No. Not really. When I lived with Peter, Emma would make them for us, but I haven't had them since I had to move out," he chuckled.

Claire refused to look at him. She knew her cheeks were still reddened, and she didn't want to see that smirk. _Why did I do that? That was so stupid! It's like I've never seen a freshly washed guy in a white t-shirt before. An extremely attractive guy... Dammit, Claire! Stop! _She continued to reprimand herself before she finally answered. "That was over a month ago," she gasped. "How have you gone a month without pancakes?"

"It's not hard to miss something I never got accustomed to having," he said with a shrug.

"I love them!" she said as she licked the syrup from her fork. "Mom used to make them every Saturday. I would eat them every day if I could."

"Why can't you? You wouldn't have to worry about gaining weight. Your... our... metabolism reacts so quickly that those pancakes will be made into nutrients before you're even finished eating them."

"So, I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and not worry about getting fat. That is so awesome!" she giggled. Just for the heck of it, she poured more syrup on her remaining stacks. Gabriel didn't speak. He just watched as she ate. He watched as she would lick the drops from the end of her fork before they fell, and he was completely mesmerized. "What?" she asked, setting her fork down before staring at him just as intently.

"Nothing," he lied as he picked at his plate. She raised her eyebrow with curiosity, but said nothing else.

"I saw that you like _Leaves of Grass,_" she said, pointing to the book on the coffee table.

"Walt Whitman is one of my favorite poets. I thoroughly enjoy his works."

"Which one is your favorite?" she asked, taking a sip of milk.

"I don't have a favorite. So many of them are... amazing..." he said in awe.

"I never really pegged you as a poetry lover," she said, stuffed another cut of syrup and fried batter into her mouth.

"Really?" he asked as he watched her in amusement. "Why's that?"

"I don't know. I always saw you as more of a Dungeons and Dragons kind of nerd," she laughed.

He looked at her in confusion before asking, "What is Dungeons and Dragons?" She couldn't help gawking at him with half-chewed pancakes showing in her mouth. She swallowed her food and began to laugh. He watched as she laughed openly at him. "What?" he asked after a moment of enduring her laughter. When she didn't answer, he asked again.

"It's just..." deep breath "you don't know..." Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes as she tried to calm down. After taking several deep breaths, she was calm enough to talk to him. "It's a game. A board-slash-roleplaying game. People dress up as certain characters and then use cards and die to play a fantasy, storytelling game."

"Sounds as though you know from experience?" he asked with a smirk.

"Ha! No, no. A friend from high school played it, and while I was trying to kill myself, I had to listen to him talk about playing it with some of his friends. I thought it was weird," she shrugged. "I really thought someone like you would know something like that."

"Someone... like... me?" he asked, enunciating each word carefully. The look on his face was slowly transforming into a glare.

"Oh, I don't mean to offend you!" she said quickly realizing she was upsetting him. She held her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Would you care explaining how you _do_ mean it?" he said with a hint of anger and resentment in his voice.

"I just mean... you... you're always surprising me. And it seems that even when I'm almost positive on how you were, or are, you surprise me. Everything about you is so perplexing that's it's hard to grasp," she said, trying her best to give a vague answer. She really didn't want anger Gabriel Gray...

"You're not giving me a direct answer," he said pointedly.

"I know," she groaned with a laugh. "Are you sure you didn't steal Matt's power? 'Cause it really feels like you're reading my mind sometimes."

"I have not yet acquired that particular gift; although, I haven't been trying to retrieve them, either," he said as his eyes bore into hers, continually softening. "So, what else have you tried to peg me for?" He propped his elbow on the tabletop, and he held his cheek in his hand, awaiting her response. He chuckled internally as he heard her heart speed up minutely and watched as a blush crept upon her cheeks. _So beautiful..._ he thought.

"Well, when I try to think of how you may have been, all I can see is this scrawny little guy wearing glasses thicker than these with pants pulled up way too high and a tucked in shirt. I could see you being a member, if not president of the AV Club, Chess Club, or a Math-lete. You always made an A, in every single class, and although you were a sweet guy, no one ever noticed you, except for football players who just wanted to pick on you. Honestly, you were everything I wasn't. I made decent grades, was a cheerleader, and the only club I ever wanted to join was theater. I couldn't because it interfered with cheerleading too much..." She sighed deeply as her mind caught up with her mouth. _I've said entirely too much_. She pushed her last eighth of pancakes around her plate.

He chuckled lightly. "I was only in band. That is all. I loved it. I felt like I actually had friends there. Until my senior year, I was moderately happy."

"What happened?" Claire asked, completely intrigued.

"I'd starting working in the watch shop after school. I was having a particularly difficult time on one piece, and I was concentrating on it during some free time at school. I heard some of my 'friends,'" he emphasized the word with his hands, "talking. About me. They were making fun of me. They were cruel. I never knew they were like that..." his voice was almost a whisper by the time his sentence was finished.

"Oh. I'm sorry... I know what that's like, too... I—I was popular. And I hated it. I had so many 'friends,'" she began, imitating his own air quotations. "But I also had enemies. A lot of them." She rolled her eyes and chuckled as he gave a pointed look as though to say "Who me?" "Other than you. I mean the ones I couldn't hurt. So many girls hated me, but I never knew why. I didn't do anything to them. Especially Jackie! She was the one who wanted me to be on that stupid squad anyway, because she thought it was make me cool. UGH!" she groaned in frustration. "I don't know what made her hate me..." she felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said, furiously wiping the water from her cheek. "We were talking about you, and I turned it back all on me." She took a generous gulp of her milk, thankful for the wetness in her dry throat.

He was quiet before he decided to speak. "Claire, I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's not a big deal. People have fake friends all the time. I don't know why I got so worked up," she said with a laugh, hoping the conversation would blow over.

"No, it's not that. I meant, I'm sorry I killed Jackie. Especially in front of you. I know I was a monster back then, and I just assumed..." Gabriel sighed heavily. It was still new considering himself and Sylar as one, though it didn't exactly feel like it. "I'm sorry—"

"I know," she said, cutting him off, not wanting to hear anymore. She slid off of her seat and grabbed her plate. She raked the last bit of her breakfast into the trash and began running hot water over her dishes. "If you don't mind, I would like to take a shower," she said as she began sulking toward the bedroom.

"Actually, Claire," he said, turning to face her. "I was curious about something?"

"Yes?" she said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she turned back to him.

"You said you wanted to be in theater? Why? I mean, what particular talent can you bring to a stage?" he smirked.

"I sing," she grinned.


	10. Road to Redemption

**AN: Thank you everyone for reading and pushing me to keep doing this story. I've been taking summer classes and working, but luckily, school's out for summer (well for a month) and I hope I can get a few more chapters up between now and then.  
Elizabeth, I'm glad I could convert to the wonderful world of Sylaire/ Clabriel (I think I made that one up... lol). I never thought I would like them together either, but then I read a few and got hooked myself!**

Although the shower was refreshing, Claire still had a gnawing feeling in her stomach. Two days ago, she was cursing Sylar with almost every breath she had, and now... All she could think about was Gabriel. Not Sylar. Gabriel, the man with his shorter hair and dreamy eyes. The clean-shaven face and incredibly dorky—but sexy—glasses. His acute awareness of how to make her blush and pry out things she had either completely forgotten or had never wanted to share with anyone aloud. She wondered if it was at all possible that he was able to manipulate her into telling the truth somehow. That would make more sense. She didn't want to think that she could be this open with someone. Anyone. Particularly him.  
She brushed her hair as she stared into the mirror. For some reason, she kept expecting him to walk in behind her and say something witty. She finished with her right side and started on her left when she saw him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. _Never fails,_ she thought with a smile.  
"You know, if you brush your hair too much, it'll make you go bald," he grinned.  
"That's a lie, and you know it!" she laughed. "Lyle told me that when I was younger, so I looked it up. It's a myth." She scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out.

He laughed with her before settling on just watching her. Her face had straightened out, and he could actually see a difference between the girl he met six years ago, and the woman in front of her now. He could still see the fire in her eyes, but he knew that he was the reason her smile didn't reach her eyes as he had seen her do before. He was the reason she wasn't as innocent as she appeared. He was the reason why she hated him  
He sighed internally and left her alone in the bathroom as she finished her morning ritual. He sat down in his favorite chair in the living room and began to pick up where he had left off in one of his many books. One of his favorites, _The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy._ Douglas Adams was a pure literary genius. He read to himself, laughing aloud as Marvin tells Arthur that the main computer hates him. "I love that robot," he chuckled as he continued to read. He failed to notice Claire as she bounced into the room.

She almost laughed to see him reading. She could see his eyes shift between the book in front of him to her to the book again.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked, not moving.

"No," she said sweetly. She sat on the opposite couch and stretched out, putting her arms behind her head. With a smirk, she continued to watch him. She wondered what he was thinking. _How many powers does he have? Is he able to absorb powers like Peter?_

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked, pushing his book further up to cover his eyes.

_Is he blushing?_ She wondered. "I'm just thinking." He remained quiet. In her mind, she was doing a checklist of everything she wanted to ask. _How many powers do you have? What are they? How many books have you read? Have you ever had a girlfriend? Are we dating? _"Have you ever had sex?"

She didn't realize she had actually asked that last question until his book hit the floor and he was staring at her with giant eyes. She blushed profusely and started stammering her apology. "I—I'm sorry! I didn't—I mean... I was just—oh, God!" she said, covering her head with her hands. After trying to take several breaths to calm down, she gave up when she started laughing uncontrollably.

"Clare... are you alright?" he asked, rising from his seat a little.

"Oh, I'm fine," she said through laughs. She was able to calm herself a bit after her sides and stomach started hurting. She wiped the tears from her eyes, but the smile was still on her flushed face. Gabriel found himself entranced by her. "I'm sorry," she said again, trying her best to look serious. "That was inappropriate of me."

"It's fine, Claire. Really," he said, picking up his fallen book.

"So... have you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ahem... yes. I have," he said as he stood and walked to the fridge to get a bottle of water.

"With who?" she asked, keeping the jealousy out of her voice.

"Elle Bishop... and Maya Herrera."

"Oh," she said, lying back against the couch. She turned her head away and tried to keep the scowl off her face.

"Have you?" he asked, returning to his seat and taking a sip from his water. He wondered what _she_ was thinking.

"No," she said quietly. "I haven't. God," she scoffed with a coarse laugh, "you must think I'm a prude."

"I don't," he said honestly. "I've never thought of you like that. You were just... Claire."

"I just haven't found the right guy. I know how cliché that sounds, but it's true. I'm not the kind of girl that will just jump into bed with a guy," she scoffed and he could see her eyes glaze over as she remembered something. "When I was in high school, before I knew about you, and before I knew about myself, I was at this party. We were hanging out after a football game, and we were celebrating their victory. We were drinking, and I think it was my second one before I realized that it didn't have an effect on me.  
"Anyway, there was a guy that I had a crush on, and he started flirting with me. We were just talking and having a good time. We sat on some nearby bleachers, and we started making out..." Her voice started cracking, and he was curious to what happened. "It was great until he kept trying to put his hand under my skirt. I got mad and told him to stop, but he got mad, too. He pushed me down... and got on top of me... He was stronger than me, and it was easy for him to hold me down. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't... When he reached for his belt, I kicked him off and I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my foot. When he turned me over, I hit my head on a rock, and a stick got stuck _in that spot._..."

He was at her side instantaneously, and he wrapped his arms around her and waited for her to continue her story. "I woke up hours later, on a cold, metal slab. I looked down, and my chest was cut open. The coroner had just finished my autopsy. She pulled the stick out and I was able to heal again. I heard the woman say I was found, naked, and washed up at the river. I was so confused, but I knew I had to get out of there. I remember thinking that I had to get home before my parents knew I wasn't home. I grabbed a coat and walked home. Dad thought I was gone all night. I couldn't tell him. I had just come back to life, and I was terrified. What was I supposed to say?" She gasped for air.

"When I saw the guy at school the next day, he looked like he had seen a ghost. That's what he thought I was, a ghost or—or a zombie. I almost laughed at him. Then this girl, Lori, came to talk to me, and I realized I wasn't the only one he had... forced."

Gabriel was fuming. _Some stupid boy thought Claire was easy... thought he could just jump into her pants. _

_**Idiot,**_Sylar whispered. _**You should go find him. Make him pay for what he did to our Claire.**_

"I got back at him though," she said, breaking through his thoughts. There was malicious smile on her face, and he realized she didn't wear the look well. "That same day, after practice, I told him I needed a ride home. I'm still surprised he let me drive. And I did drive. I drove us straight into a brick wall going 65 miles an hour. I was fine, of course. While we were in the hospital, I told Dad roughly what happened, and he had Rene, the Haitian, wipe his memory. Completely."

Gabriel's grip on his own hands relaxed some as he heard about her revenge. _Good... Now I don't have to do... something._ "So that—that prick—thought he could rape you, kill you, and get away with it?"

"Not really. After that, I convinced Lori along with some of the others, to go to the police. He's currently serving for six rapes, two attempts, and destruction of public property. Oh, and underage drinking, a few DUIs, and physical assault on a minor."

"But you said the Haitian wiped his memories... He doesn't remember—"

"No, Gabriel. That's _all_ he remembers. He only knows what he's done and tried to do. He's on constant suicide watch..."

Gabriel chuckled darkly. "Remind me never to get on your bad side..."

"Been there, done that," she replied.

He rubbed her arms gently, holding her against him. He looked down and saw the small tears falling from her eyes. He used his free hand to wipe them away, causing her to look up at him. The look in her eyes caught his breath in his throat. _How could she be here, with me? How can she stand being in my arms? I've tried to kill her. I've stalked her, practically tortured her... And yet, here she is._ "Claire," he breathed, holding her closer. "It's alright now, Claire... I'm sorry. You should never have experienced something like that... I just have to ask—"

"You know, I've never told anyone that before," she said, still looking up at him. He eased down and captured her lips with his own, slowing moving his mouth lightly with hers. He was happy, and surprised, that she didn't pull away. After just a moment, he lifted his lips from hers and whispered his name.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, backing away from her. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you really, really should have," she said, pulling herself to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips back to his. They moved their mouths together, each allowing the other to guide them. Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders. His were running along her back, in her hair, on her neck, on her hips. Everywhere.

It was the happiest he has ever felt. His Claire was kissing him, holding herself against him. A moment of clarity hit him, and he pulled away. "Claire," he gasped as she attacked his neck.

"Hmm?" she asked, not stopping her ministrations.

"You've got—got to stop," he stuttered out, trying to control his breathing.

"Why?" she asked, nibbling on his ear.

"Why?" _**That's a good question. Why does she need to stop? What's wrong with this?**_"Please," he gasped. When she didn't, he tried to focus. Almost immediately, he felt the relief of her not crushing against him, and he looked up to see her suspended in the air, glaring at him. "I'm sorry," he said, lowering her to the ground gently. He moved back to his previous seat and allowed her to sit as well.

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I should've controlled myself..." Her face was beginning to turn that brilliant shade of pink again.

_Control? Oh, yeah. Need some more of that..._ he thought. He cleared his throat, and looked away from her.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened? With Elle and Maya?" she said, looking at the ground.

"Oh... I was with Elle the first time... She was staying in my building. We started talking, and then we sort of started dating," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought she really liked me. That was years ago. Long before I met your dad, but after I met Dr. Suresh, I met Elle. She seemed like she genuinely liked me, that she wanted to be with me... Then, she brought a guy over. His name was Trevor. She kept calling him 'special,' and it just... it made me so angry. That was the second time I killed someone. She did it on purpose. She was—working with Noah, under The Company's orders. They wanted to know how I was able to see how things work. I wish they would have just taken me. Strap me down and do experiments. That would have been better than transforming into him..."

This time it was her turn to comfort him. She sat beside him and rubbed his back in small circles. He had his head in his hands, and she was worried he was going to start pulling his hair out. "I'm—I'm sorry, Gabriel. I knew Dad did some bad things, but he's been trying to fix it. I know it's not the same, but he's trying..."

"After I started 'working' for The Company, I met up with Elle again. She liked that I was like her, that we were both outcasts. It was after the Level 5's had been released. We followed you to Stephan Canfield's house. He was the one who could manipulate gravity, you know, create the wormhole?" She nodded. "That's where it happened. I was trying to shut her up, and one thing led to another..." He sighed and shook his head. "I swear, she's killed just as many people as Sylar did."

"It was a few months before that that I was with Maya. I had woken up in Mexico, with no idea how I'd gotten there. But she and her brother found me, told me they were headed to New York. I told them I was headed there, too. Right after it happened, I killed her brother." Gabriel was shaking now. Claire was scared. She didn't know if he was angry, or upset, but she knew it wasn't good either way. "She didn't believe I was a murderer until I told her, and even then..." he sighed deeply. "She's a good person. She sees the best in everyone, even if they don't deserve it. When we first met, after I told her my name, she said I was God-sent." His voice was filled with remorse. "I never wanted to be like _him_. I just wanted to be special, to be the man Mother wanted me to be. But then again, she wasn't really my mother."

Neither of them said anything as they sat there. Claire was rubbing his back, and his head was still hung.

"Gabriel," she said lightly. He didn't move. She lightly brushed his hand back and stroked his hand. "Gabriel, look at me... please..." He finally did, and she was a little surprised to see his reddened, puffy eyes. "I know you're not a bad person, and I know Sylar did some unthinkable things... But just because you share the same body, doesn't mean you're the same person. I—I wish I could explain it. Sylar is at the worse end of the spectrum, and you seem to be on the best. He took all the risk, while you only take the necessary ones. He used his powers for selfish reasons, but I really don't think there's a selfish bone in your body."

She smiled lightly and racked her brain for the words she wanted to say. "Sylar was evil, and manipulative, and bloodthirsty. He went after people because he was jealous that they had something they had and he wanted. But you—you really are special. You're a great person. But... just like my dad, you have to make up for the bad things he did."


End file.
